Illuminating Hope
by Kalinca62
Summary: While Alice and Jasper spend a romantic weekend getaway in the Thousand Islands in upstate New York, Alice has visions of Edward and Bella's tragic love story over a hundred years ago. But is there more to their story than meets the eye? Originally submitted to FANDOM FIGHTS HURRICANE SANDY
1. Chapter 1

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. The plot lines etc. belong to Kalinca62. No copy or reproduction of this work without express written authorization.

**A/N: This story was originally submitted as a one-shot for Fandom Fights Hurricane Sandy to raise money for the American Red Cross. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**As always, my heartfelt thanks and appreciation goes out to my Beta T, LovinRob.**

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**Illuminating Hope**

Autumn in upstate New York is spectacular. Mild sunny days and crisp cool nights are a welcome reprieve after the long dog days of summer, even though summer itself is but a blink of an eye. By late September the trees are awash in a myriad of colors; bright yellows, burnt oranges, flaming reds and deep purples splayed against azure blue, cloudless skies that stretch as far as the eye can see. It's Mother Nature's very own daytime fireworks display.

Against this stellar backdrop, Alice Whitlock and her husband Jasper are enjoying the three-hour drive from Rochester to the quaint tourist town of Alexandria Bay located in the heart of the Thousand Islands. By choosing the road less traveled instead of the well beaten path, they are leaving their cares behind with each passing mile. Flashing each other frequent smiles and holding hands with the occasional squeeze, they bask in their mutual love and affection.

Both are giddy with excitement for the three-day weekend getaway that stretches before them. Careful planning and tossing their spare change into the giant water jug by the side of the refrigerator for the past year has helped make this trip possible. That and Alice's parents who were only too happy to volunteer their services in babysitting their grandchildren; four year old Ashley and eleven month old Jackson. Although if you asked Ashley, she'd most certainly inform you that she is the one who is in charge of her baby brother. Knowing that their precious offspring are in good hands allows Alice and Jasper to relax and be that young, carefree, crazy-in-love couple again ... if only for a few short days.

"Oh Jas, I forgot to tell mom that when Jackson's tired and wants his nap he'll tug on his ear and want to climb on her lap," Alice sighs and reaches for her bag on the floor. "And that Ashley shouldn't watch more than an hour of TV before bedtime. I'll bet that little stinker talks them into letting her stay up to watch Ink Master. Can you believe our daughter already wants a real tattoo?"

Alice laughs at the very idea. "I almost had a coronary on the spot the other day when she got a hold of the permanent black marker and drew Jake, the magical dog from that cartoon show she loves on her forearm. I think we're going to have our hands full when she hits her teen years."

"We already do," Jasper chuckles, "Go ahead and check on the kids. I'm sure they're just fine. But know this, once I get you inside our hotel room Mrs. Whitlock, you are all mine."

"Why Mr. Whitlock, whatever do you have in mind?" Alice feigns innocence and flirts, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Let's just say I'm going to make you a very, very happy woman." He brings her hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle.

"The day we married was the day I became the happiest woman in the whole world," she says reverently.

"So even knowing my many imperfections, would you do it again?" Jasper asks casting his wife a sideways glance.

"Now that you've put it that way … hmm … I'll have to get back to you on that," she teases but sobers when his face falls. "Oh Jasper honey, do you really have to ask me that question? Of course I'd marry you again – in a heartbeat! How about you? Would you marry me again knowing all my secrets?"

Removing one hand from the wheel, he takes hold of her delicate hand. "How many people are fortunate enough to marry not only their best friend and lover, but also their soul mate? Alice honey, I cherish the life we've built together. I adore our precious children that you and I created and most assuredly, I love you. I always will. So yes, I would definitely marry you again."

Alice closes her eyes and says a silent prayer thanking the Almighty for her dear husband. "You're such a romantic Jas. I love you."

"We should get away, just the two of us, every year," he says earnestly. "I can't wait to sweep you off your feet and worship your sexy body."

"How soon until we get to our hotel, Mr. Whitlock?" She inquires and squeezes his hand. "I need to get you naked."

Applying a little more pressure to the gas pedal, they arrive at their destination less than an hour later. Dropping their bags outside room 110 of Captain Jack's Riverside Resort, Jasper scoops a squealing Alice into his arms and fumbles to insert the keycard in the lock.

"You're going to throw your back out!" Alice warns swatting at his arm in protest. "Put me down!"

"It's part of my duties as a husband, to carry my bride over the threshold," he chuckles as his hand massages her shapely ass.

"Yes!" He exclaims triumphantly moments later as the door unlocks and swings open.

Stepping inside he laughs while spinning Alice around and around before unceremoniously dropping her in the middle of the inviting king-size bed. He rushes over to the entryway to retrieve their luggage and quickly closes the door.

Never taking her eyes off of him, Alice's desire and longing to be intimately connected resonates deep within her. "I believe there are other duties that need filling, my love."

"Your wish is my command," his says in a sultry voice as his fingers slowly work their way down his shirt while unbuttoning it.

Rolling his shoulders, his shirt falls to the floor exposing his toned pectoral and abdominal muscles, a result of his dedication to working out at the gym four times a week. Running his palms over his nipples, he smirks before tweaking them and starts performing a striptease for his enraptured audience. Giggling, Alice props herself up on her elbows and watches the burlesque floor show. Tugging on his zipper, Jasper suggestively swivels his hips and steps out of his pants leaving them next to his shirt. Balancing precariously on one foot, he then removes one shoe and sock before hopping to the other leg and repeating. Clad only in his boxer-briefs, he sashays over to the side of the bed.

"Like what you see?" he asks suggestively, raising an eyebrow and pulling out his expanding manhood.

"Hmm …" Alice runs her tongue over her bottom lip in anticipation. "Oh yeah, you bet I do!"

Lifting her thin knit sweater over her head, she tosses it off the bed. To expedite the process, Jasper takes hold of her feet and lifts them, sliding off her flats. With his hands and knees, he slowly climbs on top of the mattress and plants a tender kiss on her lips before purposefully trailing his tongue over her chin and beneath the crook of her neck. Alice giggles as it tickles. Skimming his nose over her collarbone, he inhales her sweet fragrance before latching onto her nipple with his mouth. He sucks and pulls on them one at a time. As often is the case since she recently stopped breast-feeding Jackson, a few drops of milk is expelled in the process.

"Hmm …" Jasper purrs lapping up the sweet milk and swallows. "I'm going to miss this. Any chance I can persuade you into having another baby? You know how much I love your sexy, pregnant body, not to mention the fringe benefits." He looks up and gives her his little boy smile … the same smile that their son wears on his adorable face.

"You're killing the moment Jas," she petulantly pouts and sighs. "We'll discuss this another time but right now, shut up and let's make love."

Pushing him onto his back, Alice quickly straddles him before taking matters into her own hands, literally. With her left hand she cups and fondles his balls, while her right squeezes his head working his juices up and down the length of his rapidly growing length. Swooping down, she takes him into her mouth and sheathes her teeth with her lips. Jasper bucks his hips and pushes his cock further inside.

Jasper groans, enjoying the way in which she's loving him. Feeling his release rapidly approaching but not wanting to come just yet, he furrows his brow and lifts her head up. Her eyes question his as she catches her breath.

"I want to come inside you," he murmurs and pins her beneath him, spreading her legs apart with his knee.

"Oh baby, I love you," Jasper whispers as he plunges deep inside her and stills.

Overcome by the enormity of her feelings for him, she strokes his cheek with her fingertips and echoes his, "I love you."

With his mouth covering hers, he begins to move. Slowly at first, flexing his hips just so until he finds her sweet spot … the one that drives her wild. He knows he has found it when Alice begins to moan and grabs hold of his buttocks encouraging him to pick up the pace. Steadily they climb as his thrusts become harder and faster until neither one can possibly hold on any longer. They cry out to one another as their bodies begin to unravel … swept away into all-consuming and intensely powerful waves of unbridled ecstasy.

~IH~

Dawn is breaking as Alice steps outside onto their private balcony on the water's edge. Looking over her shoulder at her sleeping prince, she quietly closes the door behind her so as not to disturb him. Memories of the amazing night she shared with her beloved husband are still fresh in her mind. Smiling, she rests her hands on the wood railing and gazes out into the distance. Straight ahead, majestically rising up from the pristine waters of the Saint Lawrence River is Hope Castle. Its six stories loom high above the rocky shores of Masen Island. Groves of mature trees, some centuries old, spread their branches like protective arms over well manicured grounds and gardens. Mesmerized by its splendor, Alice slowly sinks into one of the padded lounge chairs and takes in the view before her. An inexplicable sense of foreboding washes over her but she quickly brushes it off. Closing her eyes, she tightens her robe to ward off the morning chill.

It's eerily quiet outside due to the early hour. The only sounds to be heard are the gentle lapping of water against the wooden pier below. This is Alice's favorite time, when the day is full of promise and endless possibilities. Her thoughts drift to her young children and she feels a twinge of guilt. This is the first time she and Jasper have left them for an entire weekend. She thinks of her well-intentioned mother who is not used to rising with the roosters. Jackson would be up by now demanding his breakfast and Ashley would be chatting up a storm. Alice considers whether she should call home to check that everything is all right before remembering that her phone is on the nightstand next to Jasper.

Startled by the sound of the door opening, she looks up to find her husband standing in the doorway, completely nude and fully aroused. All her earlier thoughts are immediately forgotten. Holding his manhood in his hand, he begins to slowly stroke his length up and down.

"Brr baby … its cold out here. Why don't you come back to bed and I'll warm you," he says softly through dark hooded eyes filled with carnal promise.

~IH~

With his wife's hand securely held in his, the jubilant couple quickly crosses James Street before the pedestrian signal flashes red. It's 7:50 on a Saturday morning. Some might consider it too early to be up and about, especially when they have no reason to be, but considering that they have young children at home, they would beg to differ.

The day ahead promises to be a beautiful one with bright blue skies, albeit somewhat on the cool side. Noticing that she's shivering slightly, Jasper places his arm around Alice's shoulder and pulls her closer to his side as they stroll along the main tourist strip. A handful of couple's nod their morning greetings as they pass by. There are pubs on almost every street corner. Only a few short hours ago they were bustling with nighttime action. But now they are closed while the surrounding establishments are just beginning to open. Lining both sides of the streets are the many souvenir and artisan shops featuring works by local area artists; paintings, woodcarvings and furnishings, to name just a few items being offered for sale. Promising Alice that they'll return later to browse more fully, Jasper steers her into a coffee shop where the aroma of freshly brewed java permeates and beckons them.

A kindly, older gentleman takes their order, a large black coffee and banana-nut muffin for him and a small hazelnut coffee with a blueberry scone for her. Taking their breakfast with them, they walk over to the nearby boat docks where there is an assortment of small and large watercrafts. Lowering herself down onto a wooden bench, Alice squeals and quickly jumps up when the early morning dew kisses her bottom. Jasper laughs at her now wet pants and attempts to wipe the bench with his napkin.

"For you Madame," he graciously bows and steps aside.

Facing Alice, who warily sits back down, Jasper places one foot on the wooden slat beside her, and rests his muffin on this thigh. Blowing before taking a sip of his steaming beverage, he tilts his head towards a wooden two-tiered watercraft in the enclosed boathouse across the narrow channel with the name, 'Fair Maiden' written across its stern.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Alice off-handedly remarks.

His eyes return back to his wife and he shyly smiles. "Yes she is. They don't make them like that anymore," he says, his meaning being two-fold.

Alice blushes and changes the subject. "What a gorgeous day Jas. I'm really looking forward to the boat tour and exploring Hope Castle. There is something about that place … I can't put my finger on what it is precisely but I feel really drawn to it."

Jasper lowers his coffee from his lips and tilts his head. "What? Do you think it might be haunted?"

Ever since he met Mary Alice Brandon at a Halloween fraternity party nine years earlier while attending the University of Rochester, she struck him as being very different from any other girl he had ever known. While there was no doubt that he was physically attracted to her, it was something altogether different that drew him to her. Before they met, he never believed in 'soul mates' but after spending the entire night by her side, he felt as if he'd always known her and knew inherently that they would always be together.

But Alice had a secret. One that she rarely shared with anyone lest they think she was really bizarre. It was while they were at this Halloween party that they joined a group of friends who had decided it would be fun to walk through Mount Hope Cemetery in the dead of night. The boys would call out 'did you see that?' or 'look over there!' and laugh whenever the girls jumped or cried out. All except for Alice, who remained oddly calm even though she clutched his arm but it wasn't because she was frightened. Later when asking her why she hadn't been scared like the other girls, she reluctantly admitted it was because spirits often revealed themselves to her and that they were harmless. Thinking she was joking, Jasper asked her if any had shown up while they were in the cemetery. Alice then proceeded to tell him in great detail what she had seen. She explained her 'visions' as being similar to watching clips from old black and white movies.

At first Jasper was skeptical but after doing a little research, he was convinced she was telling him the truth. How else could he explain Alice's extensive knowledge of people she didn't know? Over the years Jasper learned to recognize the telltale signs of when these 'visions' were happening to her. Alice would get abnormally quiet, her breathing would slow, her pupils dilated and she'd stare ahead with a blank expression on her face.

"It's just a feeling," Alice shrugs and pops the rest of her scone into her mouth before springing to her feet. "Let's get our ferry tickets and give the kids a quick call."

~IH~

Seated outside on the upper level of the Mystic Queen, Alice and Jasper are waiting for the ferry to embark on the two-nation tour of the Thousand Islands that will weave through the United States and Canada. Their guide, Carl, is tapping his microphone. Unfortunately for everyone it keeps cutting in and out causing sharp, piercing sounds over the loudspeakers.

"For crying out loud!" the woman seated in the row ahead of them exclaims. "Christ, my head is going to fucking explode!"

"Rosie, honey, would you like me to buy you a bottled water so you can take some Advil?" The man sitting beside the woman asks. He watches her intently as she searches her bag.

Sighing heavily, she shakes her head. "Damn it, Em, I forgot to bring it."

"Excuse me." Alice leans forward and taps the woman's shoulder. "I have some if you need it." Alice gasps when the woman turns around. With perfect facial features and sun-kissed blonde hair, she is quite beautiful.

Rose quickly assesses her kindly benefactor. "Aren't you an angel? Thanks, I'd really appreciate that."

Alice reaches inside her bag and pulls out a bottle of the pain reliever and hands it to her. "You're welcome," she says politely, wondering if the woman is a model or an actress. "I'm Alice and this is my husband, Jasper."

"Nice to meet you Alice, Jasper. I'm Rose and this is my better half, Emmett," she says, exchanging pleasantries before turning back to her husband. "Could you go get me that water now, Em?"

Emmett reaches over and shakes Jasper's hand. "This is going to be a long tour. If you want to get anything from the snack bar, now is a good time."

"Would you care for anything, Alice?" Jasper asks.

"Another coffee would be great Jas, thanks." When the piercing noise blares through the speakers again, she winces along with Rose.

Both woman watch as their husbands disappear down the narrow stairwell to the deck below. The upper deck is almost completely full with other couples although most seem to be senior citizens. There is even a Mennonite couple with six young children in tow that fills the entire first row. Alice's thoughts immediately turn back to her own children.

"Do you have any little ones?" Alice inquires when noticing that Rose is openly staring at the large family.

"No," Rose says sharply and turns away. Regretting having snapped at a fairly common question, she immediately softens. "I've recently suffered another miscarriage. I don't know why I told you that as we've only just met..." Her voice trails off.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" Alice inwardly cringes, chastising herself for having asked what is certain to be a painful question for her.

"No, I'm the one who is sorry. You couldn't possibly have known," Rose sighs. "It was my fourth. But now we're exploring the possibility of adoption. How about you? Any rug rats?"

Alice laughs at the appropriate description. "Two. Ashley and Jackson. My folks are watching them this weekend while Jas and I celebrate our anniversary."

"Really?" Rose's face brightens considerably. "So are we! It's our fifth anniversary today."

"No way! It's ours too!" Alice squeals and wonders if it isn't coincidence that they've met each other. "We're from Rochester …"

"So are we!" Rose laughs.

"Neighbors!" Alice chimes.

"Neighbors!" Rose echoes.

For the next few minutes the girls chat as if they've been friends all their lives. Emmett and Jasper are animatedly discussing the merits and statistics of each major league NFL football player when they return with the girl's drinks. Alice and Rose exchange knowing looks and quickly change spots with the boys so they can continue their boring sports talk.

Carl's voice crackles over the loudspeakers, "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Mystic Queen where I will be regaling you with tales of the majestic Thousand Islands for the next two and a half hours …"

The ferry's horn blares loudly as it pulls away from the dock and enters the waters of the Saint Lawrence River.

"That is just fucking fantastic!" Rose mutters under her breath but loud enough for Alice to hear who then starts to giggle.

"Let me see a show of hands," Carl says in an overly cheery voice. "How many of you believe that the Thousand Islands are just the name of a salad dressing and that there really aren't a thousand of them?"

At little more than half the upper deck raises their hands, including Rose and Alice. Jasper and Emmett are still engrossed in their conversation and aren't paying any attention.

"Actually there are 1,864 islands that vary in size," Carl says speaking directly into the microphone causing it to blare loudly and continue to cut in and out. "Now, to be considered an island, it must have at least one square foot that is above water year-round and have one live tree on it. Rather than having a clear-cut line separating the United States from Canada, the border carves around these islands."

Rose whispers to Alice, "This is going to be one long fucking boat ride."

"You've got that right," Alice sighs, taking a sip of her coffee.

For the next few hours Rose and Alice attempt to listen in between their own discussion as Carl recites the history and trivia of each island they pass by. He explains that at the turn of the 20th century, the area was considered to be the 'playground of the rich and famous'. He also points out the various summer 'cottages' that more resemble mansions and what prominent, wealthy families owned them. Most were from New York City, Chicago and Pittsburgh. But he saves the most impressive island of all for last … Masen Island where Hope Castle stands tall. As the ferry docks at the castle's pier at the end of their boat tour, Carl encourages everyone on board to take the guided tour to learn all there is to know about the castle's history and the sad tale of its owner's, Edward and Isabella Masen.

That inexplicable feeling she had earlier washes over Alice again as she and Jasper step foot on Masen Island and stand in line, waiting to purchase their tickets for the guided tour. Having no more patience for any further tours, Rose drags Emmett through the entrance so they can go exploring on their own.

"Maybe we'll run into you two later …" Alice calls out to them as they disappear into the crowd.

Emmett turns around and waves. "I'm sure we will!"

After having their hands stamped with purple ink, Alice and Jasper are handed a brochure and a map of the grounds and head over to the fountains near the iron archway and wait for the next tour to begin. Other people have already gathered and are waiting as well. Taking a seat on the stone ledge in front of the fountain, Jasper opens the map and begins to read it. Whistling appreciatively, Jasper exhales through pursed lips.

"This is some place. I had no idea it was this extensive. There's a pigeon house, a playhouse, a power house and a yacht house not to mention the gardens that run alongside the stonewalled terrace. It says that Edward Anthony Masen was born in 1866 in London, the son of a poor factory worker. When he was fourteen he left his home and stowed away on a barge ship that was headed to New York City …"

Alice was only half listening to her husband. Her eyes were fixated on a couple strolling arm in arm across the plush green lawn along the cobblestone path by the tall row of hedges. What made them stand out wasn't just their late 19th century attire. It was the way in which they carried themselves. They walked with an air befitting those of great social prominence. Alice suddenly felt like an intruder watching them but was unable to look away. The man was tall, lean and extraordinarily handsome with his bronze hair slicked back. He was meticulously dressed in a light gray coat with covered cloth buttons, matching waistcoat, dark trousers, a white shirt with a short turnover collar and a floppy bow tie. The woman on his arm was petite and strikingly beautiful with her dark chestnut brown hair swept into a stylishly coiffed bun atop her head. Dressed in a soft pink high-neck blouse with puffed sleeves and a dark gray bell-shaped skirt, she tilted her head and gave the man a demure smile. Running ahead of the beautiful couple was a young girl who couldn't be more than five, chasing after her little white dog. Her long dark bronze hair shone in the sunlight and swung to and fro like a pendulum across the back of her pale yellow dress as she moved. Alice waives at them when the woman turns her head in her direction.

Alice interrupts Jasper, who is still reading to her out loud. "Jas, it's so cool that they have people dressed and walking around in period costumes like they do in Colonial Williamsburg."

Jasper raises his head and scans the area. "Where do you see that?"

"Over there." Alice points to where the couple and child had been only moments ago. "That's strange," she whispers. "They're gone."

Jasper chuckled. "I don't suppose they were dressed to resemble these people?"

Flipping over the brochure, he shows her the portrait of the Masen family circa. 1900. Edward Masen with his slick bronze hair is standing behind his lovely wife Isabella and their pretty young daughter, Elizabeth. Alice blanches knowing with absolute certainty that the people she just saw were one and the same.

"Yes Jas, they were." Alice exhales sharply and swallows.

"Funny…" Jasper remarks, scanning the brochure again, "… It doesn't mention anything about having reenactments. Oh wait … it does say something about it being the 110th anniversary since the castle was abandoned in 1902. Maybe they've hired actors to commemorate the occasion."

"The castle was abandoned." Alice repeats as a shiver travels down her spine.

"Well, yes it was. I thought you would have read all about Hope Castle before we came here," he shakes his head and laughs.

A young woman dressed in beige khaki pants and a light blue knit polo shirt with 'Hope Castle' embroidered on the upper left corner fast approaches. Jasper stands and holds Alice's hand as they join the others. Clutching a clipboard fastened with thick sheets of paper, the young woman nervously shifts from one foot to the other waiting for everyone to gather around her.

"Hello," she says in a crisp voice. "My name is Jessica and I'll be your tour guide for the next hour. It's my first day on the job so please bear with me."

Clearing her throat, she starts sifting through her papers. After finding what she is searching for, she begins to read verbatim.

"Welcome to Hope Castle, the crown jewel of the Thousand Islands. Self-made millionaire, Edward Anthony Masen, of the global financial institution, Masen and Pierce Ltd, commissioned the construction of this castle in 1896 shortly after the birth of his daughter, Elizabeth Hope Masen. Mr. Masen and his wife, Isabella wanted to raise their child away from the hustle and bustle of New York City. As they often spent their summer holiday at the cottage of Mrs. Masen's parents in nearby Wellesley Island, they believed this area would be the perfect place to raise their family. Today the castle stands as a testament of one man's great and enduring love for his wife and child.

"What a schmuck," a male voice heckles.

As a whole, the group turns towards its source. The man's female companion, embarrassed by his outburst, shakes her head and discreetly shifts away from him. Choosing to ignore his rude comment, Jessica continues with her scripted monologue.

"You entered Masen Island through the iron archway that was modeled after ancient Roman monuments. It was used primarily as the formal entry for watercraft both in and off the island. The intricately carved stone pillars were hand cut and shipped from Italy. An avid boatman, Mr. Masen acquired three yachts as well as several motorboats that he used for racing that we will see later in the Yacht house on the other side of the island. Now, if you will follow me, we'll begin our tour inside the power house."

Trailing behind everyone, Alice's eyes dart around hoping to catch sight of the man, woman and child once more but they've gone.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jasper asks as he follows Alice's gaze and slows his gait to match hers. Other than the normal mixture of tourists walking about, he doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

"I'm fine," she replies, giving him a half smile and picks up her pace.

Brushing aside her uneasy feeling, Alice focuses her attention on the beauty of the island, noting that it is much larger than she thought it was when studying it from her hotel room balcony. While they skirt around the island's perimeter, she admires the lush green sloping hills that lead up to the castle. It's exterior is constructed entirely of massive granite walls with decorative details of cast terra cotta, and tiled roofs of the same material. Peaked turrets prominently showcase every corner while wrought iron outdoor furnishings garnish the covered, wrap around veranda. A tingle of excitement courses through her in anticipation of discovering what treasures await them inside.

The tower clock begins to loudly chime twelve times. The group crosses over an arched stone bridge before climbing the stairs into the power house. Once inside the white-washed, walled room, the men are enthralled examining the cast iron equipment and marveling over the many gears, switches and instrument panels that at one time were considered 'state of the art' in engineering technology. Their tour guide gives them a few minutes to look around before resuming her duties.

"When commissioning the architect to design their new home, Mr. Masen had been adamant that it include every known modern convenience available; conveniences that included a central heating and plumbing system and even an elevator. These modern conveniences required a great deal of electricity that was not easily assessable on an island so it was necessary that they create their own source of continuous power. Thus, the power house was the first structure to be built on the island. Gasoline and diesel fuel, brought in by barges, fired these massive steam generators. The equipment was maintained and run by a round-the-clock crew …" Jessica's voice droned on and on and on.

But her voice began to fade to the background when Edward and Isabella Masen suddenly materialized in front of Alice's eyes. Mr. Masen was conversing with a man garbed in soiled work clothes, kneeling in front of the generator making adjustments with his blackened hands. Amazingly, not only did Alice see them as clear as day but she was also able to hear their voices, something that had never happened to her before.

_~ih~_

"_Were you able to pinpoint why the generator seized James?" Edward asked in a crisp British accent._

_James squints, the sunlight streaming through the window blinding him as he looks up at his employer. "I believe so, Mr. Masen." He points to a grooved thin metal strip that is broken. "I've sent Laurent over to the mainland to find a replacement part. I'm hoping it'll be up and running again as soon as he returns."_

"_Very well. Please keep me apprised of the situation James." Edward then places his arm on his wife's lower back and guides her towards the door._

"_Don't worry ma'am," James calls out to his employer's wife. "Little miss will have her hot bath tonight."_

"_Thank you James," she replies politely. _

_She casts a glance over her shoulder but turns away quickly when he winks at her. Outside, Edward pauses and takes hold of his wife's delicate hand, placing it over his heart. _

"_Well that settles it sweetheart, I'm not leaving."_

"_You heard James," she shakes her head in protest. "Everything is going to be fine. There is no reason to keep your shareholders or the Governor waiting."_

"_Why don't you come with me?" Edward suggests, wrapping his arms around her small waist, pulling her closer to him. "New York is spectacular this time of year and we can bring Lizzy to meet Santa. Maybe we'll learn what she wants for Christmas."_

_Isabella reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses her husband's cheek. "I'm afraid I already know what our daughter would like, dear." Blushing, she looks away._

"_Pray tell my love, what does our child desire?" Amused, his hand cups and tilts her face so she's looking directly into his eyes. "Price is of no concern."_

"_Money cannot buy what she prays for," her voice is pained. "A baby sister," she whispers so low that it's barely audible._

"_And is my beloved receptive to this request?" He earnestly asks._

_Turning a deeper shade of puce, she replies, "She is." _

_Bella mirrors his infectious smile. Edward swoops down and claims her lips, kissing her passionately. Moaning softly, she surrenders to his urgent, unspoken plea._

"_Is Lizzy with her instructor?" His breathing ragged, his salacious intentions obvious. Bella shyly nods. "We should make haste to procure her Christmas present which will be a gift for us all." He says, his desire flowing through his words._

_~ih~_

Alice is startled when Jasper touches her arm. Steering her outside, they rejoin the others.

"Please tell me what's happening Alice. You've been acting stranger than normal since we arrived here."

Hanging back at the rear of the group, she leans over and whispers, "I can see them, Jas."

"Who do you see?" He swallows, already certain what her answer will be.

"Edward and Isabella. They're here," she excitedly replies. "I don't know what is happening exactly but when I see them, they are as real to me as you are. I can hear their voices too."

"What?" Jasper suddenly stops in his tracks. "Do you want to leave?"

"No!" Alice cries. "For whatever reason, I believe Isabella is showing me glimpses of their life together."

"Why do you think its Isabella?" He asks puzzled as they walk briskly towards the playhouse where the others have gathered.

"I don't know," Alice shrugs. "It's just a feeling I have … there is a strong connection between us."

Standing in the half-moon, outside amphitheatre, in front of a miniature replica of the castle, Jessica addresses her captive audience.

"Mr. Masen adored his daughter, Elizabeth, as did her mother," her voice echoes throughout the courtyard. "He took great pleasure in indulging her every whim and fancy. For Elizabeth's fifth birthday, Mr. Masen commissioned his architect to construct this playhouse. Built with the same Italian cut stone as the main house, it stands two and a half stories high. In addition, it features a two-lane bowling alley in the basement and an elaborately furnished tower suitable for his little 'princess'."

"All of this for one little girl?" A woman calls out from the crowd. "Were there any children for her to play with?"

"Good question," Jessica is beaming, knowing the answer to this question. "Yes, there were a handful of children on the island. One in particular was Lydia Smith, the daughter of their cook, Victoria and James, the overseer of the power house. She was a year older than Elizabeth. It's said that Elizabeth and Lydia were inseparable. Where you found one, you'd find the other."

"Now if you'll follow me, let's go inside. Please stay behind the roped off areas as several areas of the playhouse are being refurbished and please _do not_ touch the toys." Spinning on her heels, Jessica leads her charges past the arched doorway.

Wooden shelves that house both, common and unusual toys, are built into the walls of the circular great room. From the outside the playhouse appears small but inside, its fifteen-foot ceilings immediately dispel that illusion. Inside smells of a mixture of old and lemon polish. A glass case is devoted entirely to fine china dolls from all over the world and in one roped off area there is a miniature nursery, including a sheer, white-canopied crib and rocking horse. On the opposite side of the room is the staircase that leads to both the tower and basement.

While Jessica picks up where she left off, Alice's attention is thwarted by voices and laughter drifting up from the basement below. As everyone heads up the staircase to the tower, Jasper remains behind with Alice. Hesitating for a split second, she descends down the steps.

"Alice, where are you going?" Jasper urgently asks.

"Shh … they're down here," she whispers back.

The wooden steps creak with each step they take. The basement is dimly lit with the only light coming from above. The small hairs on the back of Jasper's neck rise when he feels a wisp of cool air brush past him. Reflexively he swallows knowing that there are no open windows or doors.

"Its dark and roped off. We should go back up." He reaches for her arm but she's already reached the bottom.

"What are you talking about?" she chuckles. "It couldn't be any brighter in here. "Edward and Isabella are bowling with their daughter." Alice clasps her hands together and squeals with delight. "Lizzy – that's what they call her; she's just made a strike."

"Alice, I really think …"

"Shh … I want to hear what they're saying," she admonishes him. "Oh Jas, they're so in love. Isabella told him that wherever he goes, he takes her heart with him. Edward leaned down and kissed her. He said he would safeguard hers with his life and that his heart only beats for her."

Jasper, took a quick breath, feeling uneasy.

"Oh my God, Jas. Edward just presented her with a necklace. It's a white gold filigree heart pendent with a pink diamond in the middle. So beautiful." Alice reaches inside her bag for a tissue. "I think I'm going to cry."

Jessica's shrill voice calls down to them. "You're supposed to stay with the group. This area is closed. Please come back up immediately."

"Some people have a lot of nerve," a woman comments loud enough for everyone to hear.

Once outside, Jessica directs them up the steep hill by way of the winding path to the main entrance of the castle. As they're walking, Alice catches sight of Edward holding Isabella underneath the branches of the large oak tree. They kiss and he chases her up the steps and onto the veranda. She squeals and laughs when he suddenly scoops her in his arms and quickly whisks her into the house.

They disappear as Alice steps inside the white and black marble tiled foyer. Twirling around, she tilts her head up. Six stories above is a very large and spectacular stained glass oval dome. Across from the entry is the grand staircase. To their right is a large walk-in fireplace with a breathtaking oil painting of Isabella hanging overhead. In it she is very young and stunningly beautiful with rosy cheeks, a small button nose and full pink lips. Her chestnut hair is pulled back from her face and hangs behind her royal blue satin gown.

"Edward Masen was twenty-seven years old and already a successful businessman in his own right, as well as one of New York's most eligible bachelors when he first met the fair eighteen year old, Isabella Swan, in the spring of 1893, while a guest at her father's estate in Fairfield, Connecticut," Jessica's voice echoes in the cavernous foyer.

"So smitten was Mr. Masen with Isabella that it is said he relentlessly and shamelessly pursued her in spite of the fact that she was already betrothed to Michael Newton, the son of one of the East coast's wealthiest and prominent families," she pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"Isabella soon fell head over heels in love with Edward. It was quite the scandal when she abruptly broke off her engagement with her fiancé and soon after accepted Edward's proposal. They were married later that summer. Afterwards he whisked his new bride away on a three-month honeymoon throughout Europe where they hobnobbed with the upper echelon of society. Upon returning they settled in his penthouse suite overlooking Central Park in Manhattan. Their daughter, Elizabeth Hope Masen was born on September 13, two years later. The Masen's moved into their castle in the spring of 1898 upon its completion." Pleased with herself, Jessica spins around and leads everyone into the ballroom down the hallway.

With its eighteen-foot sculptured ceilings, pale yellow walls and floor to ceiling arched windows along the western wall, it's easy to imagine the splendor of the parties that were held within this magnificent room. Alice closes her eyes as the orchestra begins to play a slow waltz. When she reopens them, she discovers Edward and Isabella gliding across the parquet floor dressed in their finest, their faces radiant and joyful. Their many guests are spilling out onto the dance floor, joining them. The ladies brightly colored gowns twirling about resemble wild flowers blowing in the wind.

Jasper's tug on her hand informs her that the tour is moving along. They follow Jessica into the adjoining dining room that is connected to the ballroom by triple French doors. There is a solid mahogany table that rests on a gold Persian rug surrounded by twenty high back chairs; each seat is covered in embroidered red and gold tapestry. As they look above there are three crystal chandeliers sparkling overhead. A matching buffet and beveled glass hutch, displaying the finest china and crystal stemware, is strategically positioned along its inner wall.

"The Masen's often entertained their family, friends and business associates in this very room. Securing an invitation to one of their dinner parties was considered an acknowledgement of one's social status." Turning a page, Jessica continues, "Those closest to him knew of Mr. Masen's political aspirations and thought he'd go far in spite of his foreign birth. The Governor and his wife were frequent guests. It had been rumored that the Governor was seriously considering Mr. Masen for a position inside his cabinet."

Alice watches as the maid serves breakfast to Edward and Isabella while Lizzy squirms and plays with the food on her plate. From the stern expression on their faces, it's apparent they're in the middle of a serious discussion.

_~ih~_

"_Edward, I don't understand why you haven't accepted the Governor's offer. I thought this is what you wanted." She sighs and shakes her head. Reaching for the butter, she spreads a thin coating on a piece of toast and hands it to Lizzy._

"_Bella, I'm away enough as it is," he explains lifting his coffee cup to his lips. "If I accept his offer, I'll be required to attend a conference in our nation's capital in a few weeks."_

"_Yes but …"_

"_We'll have to postpone our trip to the city," he frowns and tilts his head looking over at Lizzy who is sneaking pieces of bread crust to her little dog underneath the table. "… As well as the joint project we've been working on so judiciously." He smiles at his daughter before returning his gaze back to his wife. "We don't want to disappoint now do we?"_

_Flustered, Isabella stammers, "These delicate things often take time Edward. When you return we can resume. There is no rush."_

"_I don't have to give George an answer until next week," he says, taking another sip of his coffee. "A lot can happen in a week …" His voice is low and sensuous. "We'll just have to intensify our efforts."_

_Isabella nods and blushes profusely._

_~ih~_

"Alice, come on." Jasper takes hold of her arm, snapping her out of her trance-like state and steers her out of the dining room.

"Hey you two!" A male voice calls out to them from down the hallway. "This place is so cool." Emmett bellows as he and Rose scurry over. "Have you ridden in the elevator yet?"

Rose laughs. "You'd think he's never ridden in one before."

"Not like that one." Emmett insists.

"Have you been upstairs?" Rose asks. "We're going there now. Care to ditch your stuffy tour and really explore this place?"

"I don't know …" Jasper hesitates looking at Alice who is still somewhat dazed. "Alice isn't feeling well."

"I'm fine." Frowning at her husband, she turns to Rose. "Come on, let's go."

Emmett smiles pushing the knob and watches in awe as the antique elevator, which resembles a giant birdcage, slowly lowers down to the main floor and comes to a stop. The metal accordion doors slide open and the four climb inside. Emmett presses the button for the second floor. The doors close and lock before they jerk and slowly begin to rise. Jessica's distinctive voice wafts from the foyer below.

Rose and Emmett follow Alice and Jasper down the long hallway. Alice darts inside the third door on the right in what appears to be a woman's bedroom. The four long rectangular windows covered with white lace curtains give the room a light and airy feel. A thick woven wool rug with swirled patterns in creams and cranberry cover most of the cherry wood floor. A tall armoire wardrobe closet encompasses three quarters of the wall parallel to the mahogany Queen Anne poster bed. Nearest to the door is a Victorian mirrored dressing table with an array of perfumes, combs and toiletries, a padded stool and free-standing oval mirror.

Alice looks at herself in the oval mirror and wonders what it must have been like to live back in those days. She closes her eyes and pictures herself dressed in a long, full, lavender pink satin ball gown but then frowns when imagining the tight corset that goes with it. She stifles a cry when opening her eyes, she finds Isabella standing next to her in the mirror. She's primping, tugging on the low-cut fabric of her dress that is dangerously close to exposing her bosoms.

"Oh I love this!" Rose exclaims, her fingers running over the pattern of the rose-colored satin duvet on top of the bed. "Don't you think it's strange that Edward and Isabella had separate bedrooms?"

Glancing over her shoulder at Emmett, she mutters, "Maybe that's a solution to your incessant snoring."

In a heartbeat Emmett rushes over and stands behind his wife, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around her waist and pulls her against his chest. He whispers softly in her ear, "Oh I think you'd miss waking up beside me every morning." He provocatively swivels her hips over his groin before turning her around and planting a tender kiss on her lips.

"True." Leaning into him, Rose playfully swats his butt.

Alice lets out a sigh as the room darkens. A single lit candle on the small nightstand beside the bed casts shadows over the naked and intertwined bodies of Edward and Isabella who are fervently making love. Alice blushes, willing herself to look away but is unable to. She reminds herself that they are unaware of her presence and that she is only a witness to what has been, not what is.

_~ih~_

_Edward is lying flat on his back while his hands repeatedly guide his wife's shapely bottom over his hardened manhood. Her long chestnut brown hair cascades down her bosom and is splayed out over his chest like a veil as she rises and falls. Arching her back and tilting her head up, she moans with pleasure as her body shudders and succumbs to his._

"_My love …" Edward whispers reverently._

"_Edward …" she calls out to her husband as she continues moving atop him._

_Emitting a growl, Edward quickly flips her over and pins her beneath him. Spreading her legs apart, he leans back and lifts them on top of his shoulders as he begins a steady, rhythmic pace of thrusting into her. With eyes tightly clenched, he stills finding his own release. He kisses her tenderly before he withdraws and lies down by her side. With his head resting on her pillow he stretches his arm across her chest and pulls her closer to him. Her nipple hardens when his fingertips playfully trace circles around her areola._

"_Just say the word sweetheart …" he whispers and kisses the length of her neck. "I don't have to go."_

_Isabella turns her head and softly strokes his cheek. "Yes, you do."_

_~ih~_

The bedroom brightens when Rose leans over and whispers in her ear, "Holy smoke Alice! Did you see that portrait of Edward Masen in the billiard room? I'd totally do him if I was single a hundred plus years ago."

After having just seen Edward up close and personal, Alice blushes and nods her head in full agreement. "Me too," she whispers back.

"I wonder if they took turns doing it in each other's beds." Rose off-handedly comments.

"I don't know … maybe, but I'm certain that this bed saw plenty of action." Alice's remark has them both giggling like a couple of school girls.

"Do you ladies want to let us in on the joke?" Emmett pouts.

Jasper shakes his head. "Give it up Emmett. I don't believe us men will ever truly understand the female species."

"Aliens …" Emmett huffs and heads out into the hallway. He walks into another bedroom.

This bedroom is even more frilly and feminine than Isabella's had been with white French provincial furniture and soft pink walls. It's obvious that it is Elizabeth's room. White lace bed curtains hang from the ceiling and drape over the four-poster bed while a baby doll dressed in christening clothes lies on the pillow. In one corner of the room there's a Victorian dollhouse on a white cabinet and in the other corner is a life-size rocking horse.

"Wow," Rose mutters, impressed. "A room fit for a princess."

"In a way, she was." Alice carefully brushes her hand over the delicate white lace bed curtain.

"Do you think Ashley would like a room like this?" Jasper asks her while looking out the window at the yacht house below.

"Hmm …" Alice watches as another scene unfolds at the foot of the bed. "Yeah, she probably would …"

_~ih~_

_The fire burning in the fireplace warms and casts a golden glow in the otherwise dim room. Elizabeth appearing frail and younger than her six years, lies unconscious, her body shivering beneath a thin sheet. Her face is flush with fever. Her distraught mother sits on one side of the bed wringing the excess moisture from a washcloth and dabs her daughter's forehead and arm with the cool cloth. Teardrops escape from the corners of Isabella's eyes. On the opposite side of the bed, the elderly doctor hovers over the child with a stethoscope in hand, listening to the rise and fall of her chest. Placing the instrument down, he sits on the edge of the bed. Closing his eyes, he lets out a weary sigh._

"_You need to send word to your husband to return home at once Mrs. Masen," the doctor says in a steady, calm voice. "I'm afraid Elizabeth has Rheumatic fever." He turns his head away, avoiding Isabella's horrified expression._

"_Edward is at a conference in Washington D.C." She drops the washcloth in the water basin on the nightstand. "He'll be home in three days."_

"_That might not be soon enough." He slowly shakes his head. "I've done all that I can do for your daughter but now she's in God's hands."_

_Struggling but failing to maintain her composure, she gasps, "Surely, you don't mean … she won't …" She stops herself from saying the words out loud lest they come true._

"_I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Masen." Placing his hands on top of his thighs he slowly rises before closing his black bag. "I'll send the nurse up to sit with Elizabeth. You should get some rest. If you can give me the name of the hotel where Mr. Masen is staying, I'll send a telegram."_

_When she doesn't respond, the doctor moves to her side and places his hand on her shoulder. "You need to stay strong … for her. I'm giving you a mild sedative that will help you relax."_

"_No!" Isabella cries out. "You're wrong! Lizzy is going to get better … you'll see!" Frantic, she climbs on top of the bed and draws her child into her arms, slowly rocking back and forth._

_~ih~_

"No!" Alice suddenly gasps startling everyone present. Jasper hurries over to her side.

Rose and Emmett who had been admiring the details of the miniature furniture inside the dollhouse are surprised by her sudden outburst.

"What is it honey?" Jasper wraps an arm around her as she buries her face in his chest. "What's wrong?" His fingers soothingly stroke her hair.

"Jas, I want to leave … now." She wipes her tears on his shirt. "Please take me away from this place."

Jasper looks apologetically at their friends. "I'm sorry, she's not feeling well. I'll call you later Emmett so we can decide when and where we'll meet up tomorrow."

"I hope you feel better, Alice," Rose calls out as Jasper whisks her out of the bedroom.

Once they're out of earshot, Emmett mutters, "She's weird."

"That's not very nice," Rose admonishes him, smacking his arm.

"No!" Emmett's exclaims dramatically, imitating Alice's voice. "Jas, I want to leave … now! Take me away from this place!"

"All right … maybe just a little." Rose chuckles and hugs him.

Jasper was concerned, as he'd never seen his wife affected by one of her visions like this before. Something she saw in that bedroom had upset her terribly. She was still trembling. As curious as he was to ask her about it, he first wanted to get her off the island and back to their hotel. Jessica was at the landing with their tour group as they descended the staircase.

She raises her voice in order to get everyone's attention. "How many of you are familiar with what happened that tragic night over a hundred years ago?"

Less than half raise their hands. Jasper is busy navigating a path through the small crowd but stops when Alice starts tugging on his hand.

"Wait … I want to hear this," she tells him. Jasper hesitates for a second, unsure whether or not its a good idea.

"Mr. Masen left for New York City to attend to his business and after a few days he continued on to Washington D.C. It was while Mr. Masen was away that Elizabeth suddenly became ill," Jessica pauses.

Everyone is quiet, hanging on her every word.

"After tending to her sick daughter continuously for two days and two nights, the doctor was brought over from the mainland. After examining the child, the doctor advised Mrs. Masen that Elizabeth had contracted Rheumatic fever. Nowadays this streptococcus infection is easily treated with a regime of antibiotics, preventing damage to the heart and/or death. But this wasn't the case in 1901. Isabella was devastated when the doctor informed her that he didn't expect Elizabeth to recover. A telegram was sent to Mr. Masen urging him to come home immediately. Upon his return to Hope Castle less than twenty-four hours later, he was faced with the heart-breaking news that shattered his entire world." Jessica looks up at their expectant faces.

"While his daughter's condition had miraculously improved, so much so that the doctor now had reason to believe she would recover from her illness, his beloved wife, Isabella had drowned."

There is a ripple of shocked gasps. Tears once again stream down Alice's face.

"What happened to her?" Alice cries out.

Jessica turns to gaze at Isabella's portrait over the fireplace. "The official report states that just before midnight on the 14th of December, 1901, the nurse attending to Elizabeth was looking out from the bedroom window and saw a woman being assaulted by a man on the path by the island's edge, near the yacht house. The nurse summoned for help but when they made their way down to the path, no one was there. It wasn't until the following morning that a groundskeeper made the gruesome discovery … Isabella's body was floating in the water along the iron archway." Jessica stops and scans the somber group.

"Did they find out who was responsible for her death?" A woman in front asks her.

Jessica flips to the next page on her clipboard and shifts uncomfortably. "The power house overseer, James Smith was charged with her death. When questioned, his co-worker, Laurent said that James was late relieving him from his shift and that when he finally did arrive; he had scratches on his face. As there were no DNA tests back in those days, it's uncertain as to whether he had forced himself on her or not but in his pain and unrelenting grief, Mr. Masen convinced the authorities to throw the book at him. Mr. Smith was charged with assault with intent, sexual assault and second-degree murder. He was indicted, convicted, and sentenced to prison where he remained for the rest of his life.

"What of Mr. Masen and Elizabeth?" Another voice calls out. "What became of them?"

"As soon as his daughter was deemed well enough to travel, Mr. Masen closed up the castle and returned to his penthouse suite in Manhattan that overlooks Central Park. It's said that he never returned to Hope Castle," She pauses. "Abandoned, the castle was left to the elements and deteriorated over the next seventy-five years until it was purchased by the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority. Over the past thirty-five years, the Bridge Authority has been refurbishing this magnificent castle returning it to its original splendor," Jessica looks up, her face brightening. "I'd say they have accomplished this and then some."

She continues, "Mr. Masen never remarried. To ease his broken heart, he threw himself into his work and in raising his precious daughter. When the pandemic, Spanish Influenza spread throughout the world in 1918, Edward Anthony Masen succumbed and died. He is entombed beside his beloved wife in her family mausoleum in Connecticut …" her voice lowers and trails off.

"Let's go Jas, I've heard enough." Alice says quietly and takes his hand before walking outside.

~IH~

At dinner later that evening Alice avoided all talk of their visit to Hope Castle and wisely, Jasper didn't push the issue. He knew she was upset. But that didn't mean she hadn't whipped out her cell phone to check in on and speak with their children the moment they had stepped on the ferry. They'd only been away from them a little more than twenty-four hours but somehow if felt much longer. Reassured by the sound of their sweet voices and Alice's mother insisting that everything was fine, she was finally able to relax again.

Being that it was their wedding anniversary, Jasper put on his dark gray suit and tie and Alice, her short, sexy red dress that she knew he found irresistible on her. They drove the fifteen miles into Clayton and dined at the finest restaurant in the Thousand Islands. For once neither paid too much attention to the price of the appetizers, the entrees or the bottle of Dr. Frank's semi-dry Riesling they ordered. They even splurged and ate dessert. It was their time to celebrate, to focus on each other and reminisce. And knowing how quickly it could all be taken away from them, made it that much more significant and meaningful.

While holding each other later that night in bed, their lovemaking took on an urgent and passionate zealousness. Magnified with every touch, intoxicated by each kiss, they smoldered and burned when joined by flesh until both were consumed in a fiery and rapturous ecstasy that left them satiated and content.

"_Just say the word sweetheart … I don't have to go."_

"_Yes, you do."_

Alice is jolted awake from her dreams … dreams that consisted of Isabella and Edward and their tragic love story. Her dreams started off happily enough … Edward and Isabella strolling the gardens … dancing in the ballroom … making love. But then they turned dark and ominous … James gazing up and winking at Isabella – it had new significance knowing that he was responsible for her death … Elizabeth lying still and seriously ill on her bed … Bella inconsolable believing that her only child was slipping away.

_How would I handle that if it were Ashley or Jackson? _

_And if I were facing it alone without my husband's support?_

Alice shudders underneath the warm covers and wipes away her tears. Pressing her body against Jasper's back, she runs her fingers lightly through his hair. He lets out a moan in his sleep. Not wanting to wake him, she turns back over and glances at the clock on the nightstand. It reads 1:27 a.m. Listening to Jasper's steady, rhythmic breathing, she tries to fall back asleep but it eludes her. For the next hour or so she tosses and turns before finally giving up. Slipping on her robe and flip-flops, she quietly crosses the room and slinks out to the balcony.

Outside the air is cold and crisp. When she exhales she can see her breath. Tightening her robe around her midriff, she sits down. Shining like a beacon in the distance, Hope Castle rises from the shadow of night's darkness casting an illuminating glow. Alice's thoughts drift back to Isabella …

_I can't help but feel that she is reaching out to me, but why? Am I missing something? _

A few more minutes go by. Chilled and shivering, she returns inside and slips underneath the warm covers. Jasper stirs and turns over pulling her close. Alice glances at the clock that reads 3:47 a.m. and curses her insomnia.

Jasper climbs on top of the bed and leans over. "Wake up sleepy-head," he whispers in her ear. Brushing her hair away, he kisses her neck.

Slowly the fog lifts and her eyelids flutter open. "What time is it?" she mutters, half-asleep.

Sunlight escapes from the sides of the curtains. She opens her eyes and blinks. Jasper has showered, shaved and is fully dressed. The delicious aroma of fresh coffee hits her nostrils.

_Jasper must have gone out … he's so thoughtful._

"It's almost 9:30. You were sleeping so peacefully that I decided to let you sleep in but if we're going to meet Emmett and Rose, you should get your delectable ass out of bed now," he says slipping his hand underneath the covers and slowly moving his fingers up her thigh.

He moans, "On second thought, we could just stay in bed all day …"

As tempting as Jasper's suggestion was, he did promise Alice that they'd do a little shopping before they left for home that evening. Then there were the local wineries they wanted to check out … Alice places her hand over his, stopping him before he reaches the point of no return. Reluctantly she pulls the covers back and grabs her coffee. Giving him a quick peck on the lips, she meanders to the bathroom to shower.

Jasper and Emmett hang back on the sidewalk and watch as their wives enter yet another artisan shop. They've been assigned a very important task and that is to take care of the many shopping bags filled with souvenir trinkets and gifts. Emmett struggles not to drop the 16" x 24" oil painting of 'Sunset over the Saint Lawrence River' that Rose insisted would look perfect in their dining room. Jasper chuckles as Emmett recovers but then drops his own bag that contains the box with a life-size wooden carving of a seagull in flight that Alice insisted on having. He can't imagine where she plans to put it and silently prays that it won't be in their bedroom. Fifteen minutes later the girls emerge smiling with even more bags and hand them to their open-mouthed husbands.

"Uncle!" Emmett cries out in protest. In unison three heads turn towards him. "That's it Rose. I can't hold another bag unless I grow another arm."

Taking pity on him, Rose pries a single bag from his fingers. "Better?" she asks.

"That's enough shopping ladies," Jasper chimes, joining forces with his comrade. "I'm starving. How about we grab a bite to eat before we head to the wineries?"

Emmett perks up at the mention of food. "Hell yeah. Who knew that shopping could make you ravenously hungry?"

Giggling at the sight of the boys juggling their loads while keeping a brisk pace to Rose's BMW that is parked three blocks away, the girls follow close behind. Carefully they load their wives' treasures into the trunk. Alice and Jasper climb inside the rear passenger seat and put on their seatbelts. As Rose pulls out into traffic, Alice glances out her window and does a double take when spotting a woman on the sidewalk that bears a strong resemblance to Isabella. Shaking her head to clear it, she turns back and catches one more look at the woman before Rose speeds off.

_Of course, it's not Isabella. Why can't I stop thinking of her?_

Their bellies full from having eaten at a local diner, all four of them stand with a dozen others around the counter of the Slippery Stone Winery sampling a fragrant Pinot Grigio. That is all except for Emmett, who has graciously volunteered to be the designated driver. He is munching on a bowl of complimentary pretzels. The woman behind the counter glares at him, as she's had to refill the bowl twice because of him. They've already sampled five different wines from the first winery and another four at this one. The girls have loosened up considerably and they're giggling at pretty much everything they say to one another. Jasper rolls his eyes at them and pushes his glass forward indicating that he's had enough. He joins Emmett and a few other men who are glued to the overhead flat screen watching Sunday football.

"Emmett and I were going to go out last night but we ended up ordering a pizza instead." Rose leans in closer to Alice and chuckles, "He handcuffed me to the bedpost … it was really hot."

Alice's eyes widen as a BDSM image formulates inside her head. _Oh my! _

"That sounds … um … fun," she stammers, uncertain exactly how she should respond to that very private piece of information.

"Of course, we don't do that kinky shit all the time," Rose laughs. "But they say variety is the spice of life."

"Hey," Rose raises a questioning eyebrow. "What happened to you yesterday at the castle? You sort of freaked out."

_Should I tell her? _

Alice hesitates for a moment before deciding that if she wants to continue her newfound friendship with Rose, she'll need to come clean.

"I saw Isabella Masen in her daughter's bedroom."

"What?" Rose chokes and spits out the wine in her mouth. She reaches for a napkin. "Seriously? Are you like psychic or something? Can you see ghosts?"

Alice shyly nods. "Yes."

They gesture for another wine sample and down it in one shot.

"Are you fucking with me?" Rose asks skeptically. "Do they talk to you?"

"No, not exactly," Alice replies. "They usually show me glimpses of their lives."

Rose sobers, contemplating this news. "Tell me Alice. What did you see?"

With the boys immersed in the game, Alice proceeds to tell Rose everything she observed while at the castle, including the uneasy feeling she still has, convinced that Isabella hadn't finished showing her everything she needed to when she abruptly left. Standing in line waiting to pay for their case of wine, Rose checks her phone for the time.

"You may be cutting it close but I think you can still catch the last ferry over to the castle."

"Why would I want to do that?" Alice asks, puzzled. "Jasper and I are going to have dinner and then head home afterwards."

"Listen Alice, I don't know how this psychic stuff works but from what you've told me, you have to go back for your own peace of mind. I doubt you'll be able to get Isabella out of your thoughts until you do." Rose whips out her credit card and hands it over to the cashier.

"Hmm … you're probably right," Alice sighs and nods in agreement. She looks over at Jasper, wondering if he'll mind the change in plans. But first she faces the difficult task of prying him away from the flat screen.

~IH~

Emmett pulls into the parking space next to Jasper's car at their hotel and turns off the engine. As the boys retrieve Alice's shopping bags from the trunk, the girls stand in the parking lot saying their goodbyes.

"I'll call you this week to discuss the four of us getting together next Saturday, okay?" Alice takes her phone out of her purse and enters Rose's number in her list of contacts.

"Yes but you're going to call me _tomorrow _and tell me what happened on the island, right?" Rose closes the trunk. "I'm not a very patient person."

Alice throws her arms around Rose. "Absolutely. This has been an amazing weekend … I'm so glad to have met you both …" Her eyes are moist.

"Oh no … don't" Rose warns. "I also abhor tearful goodbyes." She then dabbles at the corner of her eye. "Now hurry and go …"

~IH~

There are only a handful of people getting off of the Mystic Queen when she docks at Masen Island. Like salmon swimming upstream, Alice and Jasper maneuver through the throng of people who are waiting to board the ferry back to the mainland. At the entry gate, they're reminded that they have one hour until the last ferry departs from the island for the day. Giving Alice an exasperated expression that essentially says 'I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this', Jasper takes hold of her hand and picks up their pace.

When they reach the fountains, he suddenly swings around and stops. "Where to?"

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Alice shrugs non-committal, "I don't know. Can we sit for a minute?"

Jasper gestures to the same stone ledge that they sat upon the day before and sits down beside her. As it is late in the afternoon, the sun is low in the sky and is peeking out from behind the castle. Alice scans the area hoping to catch sight of Isabella. Instead she only finds ordinary tourists scurrying about. She lets out a sigh and frowns. Knowing the sad history of this island casts everything in a different light. Yesterday she was excited and looking forward to exploring the building and grounds. Today – not so much. She's anxious to head home and kiss her babies and tuck them in their beds.

_Why did I come here again? _She asks herself.

Fifteen minutes go by and nothing is happening.

_Maybe I was mistaken … _

"I'm sorry for ruining our dinner plans," Alice says glancing over at her husband. His eyes are shut as if he's napping.

"No, I'm sorry." He stretches and puts his arm around her shoulder. "Sorry for being so grumpy. Definitely not the way I want this incredible weekend to end."

Alice leans into his embrace and their lips touch. "Let's walk."

Springing to her feet, she tugs on Jasper's arm until he's up on his feet. With fingers laced together, they skirt the path that runs the perimeter of the island. Alice glances up the hill toward the main entrance of the castle and for a moment considers going inside. But her eye catches a now familiar figure stepping outside on the veranda. Alice freezes upon seeing Isabella clutching the iron railing and gazing out into the dark horizon. Recognizing the telltale signs that his wife is having a vision, Jasper remains silent and stands by her side, ready to assist her if need be.

_~ih~_

_Isabella is not dressed properly for the frigid night. The wind is whipping her hair away from her face and her dress billows and flaps behind her. She's wrapped her arms tightly around her midriff, as if she's holding herself together. Evidence of tears, stain her pale cheeks. Like a statue she stands unnaturally still. Slowly, very slowly … almost too slowly, her hand traces the railing and she carefully descends the steps, unsteady on her feet._

'_You need to stay strong … for her. I'm giving you a mild sedative that will help you relax'_

_Half way down the hill, Isabella trips and stumbles on the stone walkway, bruising her palms and ripping her sleeve and the hem of her dress. She manages to get up on her knee and lift herself back up. Staggering like a drunken sailor, she makes it to the_ _path that runs the perimeter of the island. Water laps at the rocks below as the wind splays cold drops of water in the air. Isabella peers out at the choppy water. She could easily fall and for one brief second, it seems that she will. Dropping to both knees, Isabella lifts her head to the heavens and lets out a blood curdling scream, a pained and agonizing cry to her Maker. Her head slumps forward and she collapses on the ground, her spirit broken._

_There is a bright light. A man is quickly moving towards her. He stops when discovering the body of a woman crumpled on the ground. Placing his lantern down, he kneels in front of her. _

"_Are you all right ma'am?" the man inquires. She doesn't answer him._

"_What are you doing down by the water's edge? You'll catch a death of cold here with no proper coat on," he chastises her._

_Trepidatiously he extends his hand and lifts her face so he can take a better look at her. He is taken back when discovering that the woman is Mrs. Masen. Alarmed by her distressed demeanor, he speaks to her in a soft and soothing voice._

"_Here now Mrs. Masen, let me bring you back to the house where you can warm up by the fire and have yourself a warm cup of tea or a brandy if you require something stronger."_

_Taking hold of her firmly by the elbows, he rises and lifts her back onto her feet. Disoriented, she stares blankly up at him. Blinking several times, a smile slowly spreads across her face._

"_Edward! You've come back!" Suddenly she throws her arms around him and buries her head in his chest. "Everything is going to be all right now that you're home," she murmurs, clutching him tightly._

_He gently pats her back. "I'm afraid you're mistaken ma'am. I'm not your husband. I'm James Smith, the power house overseer." _

_Isabella's head snaps up and she recoils, immediately letting him go. "How dare you touch me?" Her hand whips back and she slaps him hard across the face. "Edward will hear of this!" she screeches._

"_Please ma'am, you're not yourself. Please let me take you up to the house." He reaches for her arm and pulls her to his side to shield her from the wind. Spinning around she claws at his face with her nails. He lets go of her, putting his hand on his cheek._

"_I can make it there on my own! Don't you touch me!" She shrieks and starts to run haphazardly towards the stone path that leads to the house. "Don't follow me … go now or I will scream!"_

_James stands watching her as she moves away from him. Unsure whether he should go after her or not, he waits until he hears the sound of her footsteps on the steps of the veranda before picking up his lantern. He quickly hustles off to the power house. _

_Just as she is about to quietly slip back inside the house, she hears voices at the front door. Isabella spins around and runs back down the steps, unsure and disorientated. She chooses another path, a path that takes her to the iron archway. Looking around she appears to be confused but once at the water's edge, she closes her eyes and begins mouthing a heartfelt prayer for her daughter's recovery. Startled when the clock tower loudly starts to chime, she loses her balance and slips, falling into the icy cold waters of the Saint Lawrence River. Unable to find her voice, her head bobs up and down several times as she desperately tries to climb back up but when the clock strikes twelve, she rises no more. _

_~ih~_

Alice suddenly gasps for air, her eyes wide. Shocked by what she's witnessed, she trembles. Isabella had indeed drowned, that much was true but the circumstances that led to it were very different than what is believed to be true.

"Are you alright honey," Jasper asks with mounting concern.

"Yes," she whispers softly. Trying to catch her bearings, she runs her hand through her hair and continues to breathe deeply.

"We're going to have to make a run for it or we're going to be staying on this island tonight and I don't know about you, but I really want to go home." His words are like a cold bucket of water bringing her back to the here and now.

Sprinting along the path they can hear the blare of the horns, the final call of the last ferry before it departs. Alice and Jasper step on the ferry just in time before it leaves the dock for the mainland. Taking a minute to catch their breath, Alice spots their tour guide, Jessica, on the lower deck sitting alone in the last row. Making a beeline over to her, she plops down beside her. Jasper shakes his head but follows and wonders what his wife is up to now.

Recognizing Alice, Jessica gives her a warm smile. "So, let me guess. You enjoyed Hope Castle so much that you had to come back again?"

"Yes, something like that," Alice replies and returns her smile.

Jessica turns her gaze to the window and watches, as the castle grows small in the distance. For a long stretch neither one says anything more. Alice stifles a yawn, feeling suddenly tired and drained by her vision and listens to the steady hum of the engines and gentle swaying of the boat. Concentrating on what Isabella has shown her, Alice now has more questions that need answers before she can put it all to rest. Gently, she taps Jessica's arm.

"Do you know what became of Elizabeth? Did she ever marry and have any children of her own?" Alice asks.

Turning to face her, Jessica shakes her head. "No, she never married. She had a weak heart due to her childhood illness and was in delicate health the remainder of her life. Elizabeth was only twenty-seven when she passed on in 1922."

Alice takes a moment to process her words before she asks another question. "The Masen's were very wealthy, right?"

Jessica nods.

"Well then who was Elizabeth's heir?"

A wry smile crosses Jessica's face.

"Do you remember me saying that the cook, Victoria and her husband, James …" When noticing Alice's surprised expression, Jessica pauses. "Yes, the same James that was convicted of killing Isabella."

"James and Victoria's daughter, Lydia, was Elizabeth's dearest friend. She and Elizabeth were inseparable. Where you found one, you'd find the other. Well after her mother died and her father was making plans to leave the island, Elizabeth begged him to bring Lydia and her mother with them to New York City. I'm sure he must have been torn by her request as they would be a constant reminder of his painful loss but he did need someone to cook and tend to his daughter while he conducted business and not wanting Elizabeth to suffer further loss, he agreed …"

Alice interrupts her. "Are you telling me Elizabeth left everything to Lydia?"

Jessica shakes her head. "No, not everything. The vast majority of the Masen estate was set up in a trust with proceeds given to various charitable organizations. To this day, these charities still reap the benefit of their generosity. Elizabeth bequeathed the remainder of her family's fortune to Lydia which was still quite substantial, including the penthouse and several other properties."

"Wait a minute …" Jasper joins in on their conversation. "Lydia's father murdered her mother. How could Elizabeth overlook that?"

"No, Jasper." Alice adamantly shakes her head. "James Smith did not murder Isabella. She showed me what really happened to her."

Jessica's mouth falls open. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It's a long story," Jasper answers, coming to his wife's defense. "Alice has these visions."

"Are you psychic?" A hopeful smile spreads over Jessica's face. "Oh my God! This is so cool. I've heard of people like you … people who help solve mysteries of the past. Please tell me … what did Isabella Masen reveal to you? I need to know … for personal reasons."

The small hairs on the back of Alice's neck rise.

_Could Jessica be the reason why Isabella was compelled to show me the truth of her death?_

"I've always been curious about Hope Castle … ever since I was a little girl." Jessica explains. "Like most children, I enjoyed a good fairy tale although most usually wanted the 'happily ever after' ones. What can I say? I was a strange child. I often begged my grandmother to retell the story of the castle before she tucked me safely into my bed … the story that involved her grandmother … my great great grandmother, Lydia Smith."

Both Alice and Jasper audibly gasp, clearly surprised by Jessica's admission.

"I was asked not to divulge this information during the tours when they hired me," she chuckles. "They said it would make their visitors 'uncomfortable' …" She suddenly stops. "You won't tell them, will you?"

Finding her voice again, Alice shakes her head. "No, of course not."

The sound of the boat engines quiet as the ferry approaches the dock on the mainland. Jessica reaches inside her bag and takes out her clipboard and a pen. As she bends over, Alice notices her necklace, an exquisite white gold filigree heart pendent with a pink diamond in the middle, hanging down from her neck. Jessica tears off a piece of paper and scribbles on it before handing it to her.

"This is my phone number," she says. "I'm a student at NYU but I've taken a semester off in order to start writing my book about Hope Castle. I would really love to talk to you about this in greater depth. Please tell me you'll call me?" Her eyes plead for Alice to say yes.

Alice smiles and whips out her phone and quickly enters Jessica's number into her list of contacts. "I don't want to lose your number. You're going to want to hear what I have to say. Just to be sure, here's my phone number."

~IH~

On the drive back to Rochester, Jasper and Alice are fairly quiet, each reflective in their thoughts. Soft music plays inside the car. Alice stretches her arm over the driver's seat headrest and twirls and plays with the small hairs on the back of Jasper's head. He moans his approval and tilts his head from side to side. Every so often she leans over and kisses his cheek causing him to smile.

Jasper takes her hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle. "I love you Mrs. Whitlock."

"I'll never tire of hearing you say that Mr. Whitlock," she chuckles before becoming serious. "I love you too … so very much. We often get so caught up in our every day lives that we lose sight of what's really important. Let's promise Jas, that we never forget to tell each other how we feel. If I've learned anything this weekend it's that you cannot take one single, solitary minute for granted. It can all disappear in a heartbeat."

"That it can," Jasper says softly, applying a little more pressure to the gas pedal. "I can't wait to get you home Mrs. Whitlock."

"Why Mr. Whitlock, whatever do you have in mind?" Alice feigns innocence and flirts, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Let's just say I'm going to make you a very, very happy woman." He brings her hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to those who supported and donated to Fandom Fights Hurricane Sandy and the American Red Cross. Being that I am originally from New Jersey and still have family members who live on the Jersey Shore, I know that the need is still great and will be for quite some time to come as well as other areas along the East Coast.**

**My inspiration for this story came from my very romantic, anniversary weekend with my dear husband this past September. When touring Boldt Castle on Heart Island in the Thousand Islands, I couldn't help but imagine putting my favorite Twilight characters into this amazing backdrop and creating a mystery of their own. I hope that you've enjoyed taking this journey with them. **

**Like I said in A/N at the beginning, I originally intended IH to be a one-shot story but I have since written several outtakes that I will be posting very soon. Be on the lookout. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. **

**One more thing … I'd like to give a shout out to Amandac3 for creating the amazing banner for IH. Those of you on FF site can't see it but if you want to, I'm also posting IH over at The Writer's Coffee Shop website. Another shout to Stratocastic1969 for pre-reading. **


	2. IH: Visions from the Past Part I

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: ****Stephanie Meyers owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: I thought I was finished with my one shot story but I couldn't put it to rest as I kept imagining the lives of Edward and Isabella. So I hope you don't mind that I've added a chapter or two or three … **

**I love my Beta T, LovinRob – thanks darling!**

* * *

**Illuminating Hope **

Voices from the Past Part I

October 1890

Isabella gazes out the dining room window. Sighing heavily, she doesn't notice the white linen napkin falling from her lap onto the floor. She watches with longing as her younger brother, Jacob romps around outside with his friends. All afternoon they have been raking leaves, creating mountainous piles all along the side of the house. Now they're taking turns launching each other high in the air like cannon balls, directly into the piles, scattering the leaves in all directions. Their peels of unbridled laughter resonate through the thick brick walls of the stately mansion.

It wasn't fair. Why had she been born a girl? If given the choice, she'd have preferred to be a boy. From her perspective, boys had every advantage and all of the fun. They didn't have to grow their hair long and suffer as the knots were combed out nightly or wear layers of tight undergarments that constricted their breathing. They were given creative toys to tinker with, not fragile china dolls they were expected to cuddle and fawn over. They were allowed outside and encouraged to run and jump and climb tall trees. They could laugh loud and scream at the top of their lungs and no one thought their behavior strange. By comparison girls were to keep their voices soft and low. Heaven forbid if she said or did anything a boy might do like jump into tall piles of leaves. No, it just wasn't fair at all.

As far back as Isabella could remember she'd been encouraged – no, expected to be ladylike in both her appearance and manners at all times. According to her mother and her mother before her, how else would a young woman 'catch' a suitable husband unless she learned to master her feminine wiles to ensnare the poor unsuspecting chap? And wasn't that the ultimate goal? To marry well and repeat the cycle yet again?

"Isabella!" Her mother's steely voice snaps like a whip. "You've dropped your napkin. Please show me the proper technique in picking it up."

Isabella winces as the other girls at the table giggle at her expense. Their mother's stern reprimanding icy stares immediately silence them into subservient submission.

"Yes mother," Isabella respectfully replies. Her mind quickly retrieves the checklist from which her mother will refer.

With her chin held high, she stands and gently pushes her padded chair away from the table. Shuffling her feet so they are slightly apart with toes turned out at a slight angle, she lowers herself while maintaining a stiff lower back. Keeping her knees aligned with her toes and her toes on the ground, her chest up, upper back tight, eyes looking forward and slightly down, her fingers slowly reach and grab hold of the napkin. Pushing her weight through the back of her heel, she gracefully rises to her feet and positions herself over her chair. Lowering herself as she slides the chair forward, she sits and places her napkin on the top of her lap.

Her mother nods her approval before turning her attention back to the other ladies.

"Would anyone care for more tea?" Mrs. Swan inquires.

Upon hearing Mrs. Weber and Mrs. Newton's affirmative response, she rings the small bell beside her plate. Moments later their impeccably dressed house servant, Trudy waltzes through the French doors with a silver teapot in hand and begins refilling their cups. Fast on Trudy's heels is her partner, Martha who then offers their guests a freshly baked pastry from a silver tray.

Isabella passes on the pastries as is expected of her. It wasn't for fear of gaining an extra pound or two. Quite the contrary, by nature she was slim and petite regardless of what she ate. 'A perfect figure' she once heard her mother bragging to her female companions. Isabella had been taught that a lady should 'eat like a bird' in the presence of others which never made sense to her as birds eat twice their weight in food each day. Gingerly she drops two sugar cubes and pours a spot of cream into her steaming tea and slowly stirs. Placing her spoon down on the side of the saucer, she carefully lifts the cup to her pursed lips and gently blows before taking a small sip. From the corner of her eye she notes her mother's subtle approval. Unlike Mrs. Newton whose scowl is clearly visible to all as her daughter, Eloise, who is as plump as the pastry she has chosen, brings it to her lips.

"Will Angela and Eloise be attending Miss Julliard's finishing school this spring?" Mrs. Swan asks the other girls mothers, bypassing the girls themselves as if they weren't present. "Isabella is most anxious to commence her studies."

"But of course," Mrs. Weber responds. "Miss Julliard's only accepts the finest, well-bred girls of which my Angela most assuredly is."

"Yes, absolutely," Mrs. Newton mirrors Mrs. Weber. "I expect Eloise will blossom like a delicate winter rose, just in time for the Debutante Ball come next December."

"I anticipate Isabella's dance card will quickly fill. Even now the fathers of the finest, most eligible bachelors have been inquiring of my husband, discreetly of course, when her formal entry into society will be." Renee gushes. "I imagine she'll have her choice of marriage proposals to sift through in no time."

"My son, Michael is quite the catch." Mrs. Newton remarks and knowingly eyes Isabella. "Whoever he chooses as a bride will be most fortunate. After all one day he will be at the helm of Newton Industries."

Uncomfortable at being put on the spot by Mrs. Newton yet again, Isabella downs another sip of tea too quickly and starts to cough when it goes down her windpipe the wrong way. Her mother springs to her feet and lifts Bella's arms into the air as Trudy pats her back.

"I believe that my Angela and Michael would be a good match." Mrs. Weber comments tossing her daughter into the list of possible candidates while Angela turns beet red. "She has a sensible and sweet disposition."

It was no secret to anyone present that Angela had harbored a serious crush on Michael Newton since they were children. But unfortunately for Angela, her feelings had thus far gone unrequited. Isabella suspected it was because Michael was sweet on her. Should a marriage between them ever come to pass she was fairly certain that both her parents and the Newton's would be overjoyed. While Isabella had always enjoyed Michael's company well enough, he never made her feel weak in the knees or caused her heart to flutter and from the many novels she read concerning matters of the heart, surely she ought to feel something close to that. She emits a sigh as she imagines a mysterious and handsome man riding on a white horse moving swiftly towards her. Coming to an abrupt stop, he slides off his mount. When he casts his eyes upon her face, their eyes lock and her heart will start to flutter. Then he will sweep her into his strong arms, their lips will touch and …

"Isabella!" Her mother cries. "What is with you today young lady? Why are you so distracted?"

"I'm sorry mother. I'm not feeling particularly well," she quickly responds but feels a twinge of guilt for her dishonesty. "Might I be excused?"

"She does look rather flushed Renee," Mrs. Newton comments as she examines her more closely.

"I've heard there is a nasty bug making the rounds," Mrs. Weber adds. Quickly she rises and gestures for her daughter to do the same. "It's getting late. We should be going. Thank you for a most delightful afternoon, Renee."

"Dolores, I'm so pleased that you and Angela were able to come today," Renee says politely. "Edith, we'll have to do this again soon."

Mrs. Newton follows Mrs. Weber's lead and stands. As she does, she pries another pastry from her daughter's fingers and places it back down on the plate. "A pleasure as always Renee. I look forward to seeing both you ladies at next Wednesday's Bridge game."

Mrs. Newton turns around and addresses Isabella directly. "Isabella, I do hope you are feeling better soon. Might I give Michael your regards?"

Casting a furtive glance in her mother's direction, she gives Mrs. Newton a quick nod in response, much to the delight of both ladies.

After everyone had left and her mother had retired to her bedroom to rest until dinner, Isabella tied her hair back, puts on her shoes and warm overcoat and slips outside. Scanning the yard to be sure she's alone, she grabs one of the rakes that the boys left on the grass and starts making a tall pile of leaves. Pleased with her efforts, she turns her back to the huge mound, closes her eyes and falls backwards with her arms outstretched, a satisfied smile plastered on her radiant face.

~ih~

December 1891

Inside the majestic suite of New York City's Waldorf Hotel, there is a flutter of activity as Isabella's peers vie for position in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. They are primping; making last minute adjustments to their hair and gowns. Pinching their cheeks to simulate rouge, their faces are glowing with excitement. There are a total of twenty, sixteen and seventeen-year-old girls representing some of the most prominent and wealthiest families on the east coast. They are eagerly waiting to officially take their place in high society at this evening's Debutante Ball.

Marching with purpose inside the suite, Miss Julliard claps her hands together. Immediately the girls stop whatever they'd been doing and take their places, forming a straight line for her inspection. Miss Julliard is well known for her strict, no-nonsense reputation and while she would never win a popularity contest, her success in turning out impeccable, well-mannered and polished young ladies year after year overshadows her personality or lack thereof. Patiently she stands waiting for absolute silence to descend.

"I must say this has been the most challenging group of students that I've encountered in all my forty-nine years as head mistress but overall I am pleased with the outcome. I have every confidence that as a direct result of my resolute and steadfast efforts, you will reap the benefits of my teachings throughout the course of your lives." She pauses and frowns, her steely gaze settling on Eloise Newton who in turn stares uncomfortably at her feet.

As Miss Julliard continues with her scripted diatribe, Isabella leans closer to Eloise and whispers, "Don't pay any mind to that cold-hearted old hag. She's jealous of us. We're young and she's not."

A small smile spreads across Eloise's face. Reaching for Isabella's hand, she squeezes gently. "I do so hope one day that we'll be sisters."

Isabella squeezes Eloise's hand in response. "None of us can possibly know what the future holds."

While the other girls are anxious for the evening's festivities to commence so they can meet potential suitors and prospective husbands, Isabella felt more like an object to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. She remembered the look of abject horror on her mother's face when she had suggested that perhaps she didn't want to marry after all and pointed out that her sister, Violet had never married and that she seemed genuinely happy. Her mother accused her of being 'naïve and 'selfish' before dramatically placing her hand over her heart and wavering on her feet. After Isabella led her over to the couch and found her smelling salts, her mother made her promise to never, ever say those words to her again.

A half an hour later Isabella is making the customary curtsey before descending the ballroom staircase on the arm of her assigned escort, Benjamin Cheney. Dressed in a stunning white satin ball gown and matching long-sleeved gloves, she blushes when noticing the eyes of every male in the cavernous room, both single and married, are fixated on her. And just as her mother predicted, Isabella's dance card quickly fills.

"I apologize, Miss Swan," Peter, her sixth dance partner of the evening tells her after he steps on her foot for the third time. "It appears that I have two left feet."

Isabella plants a smile on her face in spite of the pain and recalls Miss Julliard's lesson on the importance of never allowing a man to feel poorly about himself. The 'old hag' had emphasized repeatedly in her many speeches that a lady should always find a way to compliment a gentleman even when he blunders. Failure to do so could very well ruin any chance of a marriage proposal or worse, her reputation if word spread she was of a dour disposition.

"It is I who should be apologizing to you, sir." Turning on the charm, Isabella tilts her head and innocently bats her eyelashes rendering her partner spellbound. "You are a marvelous dancer. It is I who misstepped. I'm afraid my feet are not used to your level of expertise."

They continue to glide and twirl around the ballroom as the orchestra continues playing 'The Beautiful Blue Danube'. Peter steps on her foot another two times before the waltz mercifully comes to an end.

Peter releases the arm that is gently resting on her waist. "Might I be so bold as to confess to you Miss Swan that you are the loveliest maiden here tonight? I would be amiss if I didn't ask you …"

A firm tapping on Peter's shoulder interrupts what was sure to be another request for her consent to call on her. It is with immense relief when Isabella turns around to find that it is Michael who is responsible for Peter's growing scowl.

"I believe the next dance is mine." Michael mischievously winks at her and bows before reaching for her hand. "I've come to claim what has been promised to me."

Isabella blushes profusely as Michael leads her away from the dance floor and over to the refreshment table as the orchestra begins to play the next waltz.

Still holding her hand firmly in his, Michael leans down, "Isabella, I've noticed that you've been on the dance floor far too long without replenishment of food or drink. I feel it is my responsibility to rectify this grave situation and give rest to your poor, aching feet."

Isabella grins but is secretly pleased that Michael has chosen to forego his dance with her. "You are very thoughtful, Mr. Newton. I and my feet are most grateful."

"Why the sudden formality?" he asks, reluctantly letting go of her hand and filling a crystal cup with punch and pouring another one for himself. "We've known each other all our lives. I'd prefer it if you were to call me by my given name."

Aware of the many eyes watching and ears straining to hear their conversation, Isabella whispers, "That would imply sir, that there is an understanding between us which there is not."

"Come," he says shaking his head and steers her out to the hallway.

Isabella hesitates looking up and down the hallway, unsure whether she should go with him or not. "Do you mean to ruin my reputation on the very night I am eligible to begin entertaining gentlemen callers?" she asks indignantly.

"I suppose that is one way to ensure you'll be mine but no, Isabella," he says. "I only wish to be with you for a minute or two. I'll return you before anyone suspects that we've left."

Nodding her approval, she follows him into an empty sitting room. He turns on the wall switch and the room brightens. Purposefully he leaves the door wide open.

"See Isabella, no harm will come to your good-standing."

Leading her to the far side of the room, he gestures for her to sit on the couch. He searches for and finds a footrest and kneels in front of her before placing her feet on top.

"Thank you Mr. Newton," she says and braces herself for what she believes will follow next.

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, Isabella, as I know there is going to be a long line of young men vying for your hand," he pauses and takes a deep breath. "My intentions are honorable. You must have some inkling as to how I feel about you. I've already spoken to your father and I have his approval to formally court you. Please, Isabella, tell me, do I have yours as well?"

On one hand Isabella is incensed that Michael has taken the liberty of going to her father before first asking her but on the other hand, she's impressed by his boldness. Closing her eyes, she waits for some magical and unknown feeling to overtake her. She prays that when she reopens them her heart will flutter and she'll know that he is the one. Holding her breath, she gazes down at Michael to find that he too, is holding his. Exhaling, she is disappointed not to feel anything for him other than friendship. She wonders if perhaps this might change over time into something more. Knowing it will please her parents; she decides to give him a chance. Shyly she nods.

Overjoyed, Michael sits down beside her and without any warning, pulls her into his arms. Before she can protest, his lips swoop down and claim hers. Again she closes her eyes and waits to feel something … anything. But she feels nothing ... nothing that is except his tongue trying to part her lips.

"Michael!" she exclaims and pushes him away. "You will control yourself."

"I'm sorry, Isabella, I don't know what came over me. I … I love you," Michael declares. "I promise I'll behave and we'll do this right."

"Thank you," was all she was able to mutter. She hoped that she wouldn't come to regret her decision.

Michael was true to his word. Over the course of the following year he was on his best behavior aside from occasionally holding her hand and sneaking a peck on her cheek. When word spread through the grapevine, by both of their mothers, that they were a serious item, her other suitors soon fell by the wayside. This troubled Isabella for while she was very fond of Michael, she wasn't entirely certain that he was 'the one'. When discussing her concern with her mother in private, her mother had quickly discounted her 'childish' notions of what love should feel like. Her mother assured her that in time, she would grow to love Michael as she had grown to love Isabella's father. By Christmas when Michael dropped to his knees declaring his undying love in front of her family and asked her to marry him, Isabella accepted even though she still had lingering doubts. As she opened the tiny black box and Michael placed the exquisite ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, a few tears trickled down her cheek. She desperately wished they were tears of joy. But at least her mother's were.

~ih~

April 1893

On a beautiful Saturday afternoon in early spring, Isabella gazes out the dining room window. Feeling restless, she sighs. Her mother and Mrs. Newton are enjoying themselves immensely while addressing the stacks of wedding invitations and discussing the minute details of her pending nuptials that are only two short months away. Her fiancé is expected back from his extended business trip to London and is to join hers and his family for Easter dinner the following day.

Also joining her family this holiday weekend is a business associate of her father's. A few days ago Isabella had overheard her parent's argue over his inviting the man without first having consulted her. When her father and his guest arrived the previous night, Isabella had already retired for the evening and in the morning they had left with her brother before she had risen.

Unable to sit another minute longer, she rose to her feet. "It is such a lovely afternoon. Would you mind terribly if I were to take a walk and get some fresh air?"

"No of course not, dear," her mother replies. "It's still a bit chilly outside so be sure to wear a coat."

"Yes, mother. I won't be long." Dutifully she kisses both her mother and future mother-in-law's cheeks before making her escape.

An hour later, Isabella is strolling leisurely along the path that separates their sprawling green fields. She pauses to pick a handful of yellow daffodils to bring back to the house. Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, she inhales deeply. A smile spreads across her beautiful face as the warm sun kisses her skin. She thinks back to when she was a young girl and how she used to spend hours walking her family's vast estate. When she was a little older, she'd ride her dapple-gray gelding, Sampson. It felt like forever since she'd last done that. A sadness descends upon her when it suddenly occurs to her that soon she'll be leaving the only home she's ever known to marry a man she not certain she truly loves.

From out in the distance, she hears the faint sound of hooves running across the field. Her hand darts above her brow to shield the bright sun from her eyes and to take a better look. Fast approaching in her direction is her father, brother and the man she assumes is her father's guest. Her eyes focus in on the man. From what she can decipher, he is tall and physically fit. His shiny bronze hair blows softly in the breeze. When his perfectly sculptured face comes into view and his emerald green eyes meet hers, Isabella gasps and is unaware that she's been holding her breath. Her heart is pounding furiously and her knees weaken. Coming to an abrupt stop directly in front of her, he quickly dismounts Sampson.

"Hello," he says in a crisp British accent. "You must be Isabella."

Bewitched when he casts his smile at her, Isabella is unable to form a coherent response. She begins to feel lightheaded, a direct result of having held her breath too long. Suddenly everything begins to fade. Before hitting the ground two very strong arms reach out and grab hold of her. Moments later when regaining consciousness, she finds herself gazing up into the face of 'the one'. The one her heart is wildly beating for.

* * *

**A/N: ****Can you imagine what it was like to live back in the late nineteenth century. There weren't many options for a young woman to choose from as there are today. Marrying wisely was probably the most important decision she would ever make. In Isabella's world marrying for love was a relatively new concept and one that she could only dream of … plan on posting next chapter on Friday.**


	3. IH: Visions from the Past Part II

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: ****Stephanie Meyers owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: Do you believe in love at first sight? Or are you of the opinion that love begins as a friendship and over time turns into something more? **

**Shout of appreciative thanks to my Beta T, LovinRob!**

* * *

**Illuminating Hope**

Voices from the Past Part II

April 1893

Edward had heard rumors that Charles Swan's daughter was very beautiful but having seen her up close, he now knows it was a resounding understatement. Would one say that Michelangelo's David is merely 'nice'? The young woman lying unconscious in his arms is the most gorgeous creature he has ever seen. A few tendrils of her silky, chestnut brown hair have broken free and are framing her angelic face. Her pale skin is flawless, almost translucent and is as soft as rose petals when he gently skims his thumb over her cheek. She has a small, perfectly shaped nose and luscious pink lips that are beckoning him. Remembering the book of Grimm's fairy tales he read as a boy, he believes she resembles the sleeping princess, Briar Rose. For a moment he wonders whether she is real or a magnificent figment of his imagination. It takes all of his strength not to lean down and plant a tender kiss on her sweet lips. With hungry eyes, he traces the curve of her neck. They follow its path down past her shoulder before catching sight of her hand – her left hand and the prominent ring lodged on her fourth finger. He freezes. Edward couldn't remember whether or not Charles mentioned that his daughter was engaged.

"Edward what has happened?" Charles asks, his voice thick with concern. Quickly he dismounts and scurries to his daughter's side. "Is she hurt?"

"No, I don't believe so," Edward replies, staring intently at her hand. "I think she fainted."

Gently Edward rubs her arm to try and waken her. Sitting on top of his horse, Jacob wears a bemused expression and shakes his head.

Isabella stirs and her eyes blink rapidly as she tries to regain her bearings. Taking several breaths, her cheeks redden when she takes notice of the handsome man gazing down at her. Seemingly he is as mesmerized with her as she is with him. When he flashes her a dazzling smile she's temporarily rendered incoherent. She has to remind herself to continue breathing. Nothing she has read in any of her novels has prepared her for this moment. She's uncertain how to proceed. Her brother's laughter, akin to a bucket of cold water being dumped on her head, quickly brings her back to her situation. Feeling embarrassed by her body's overreaction, she struggles to maneuver herself upright. Immediately Edward releases her from his strong hold but continues to kneel by her side.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his incertitude reflected in his emerald green eyes.

Finding but not recognizing her own voice, she tenuously answers, "I am. I'm afraid I don't know what came over me."

"Perhaps you had too much sun," he suggests, stunning her with yet another blinding smile.

Softy she says, "Thank you Mr. …"

"Masen … Edward Anthony Masen at your service, Miss," he cheerfully offers.

"I've never seen you faint before Bella," Jacob remarks with mild fascination. "Can you do it again?"

"That'll be enough Jacob," her father says sternly, mercifully rescuing her from what was sure to be further embarrassment. "We should head back to the house. I happen to know for a fact that Mrs. Adams has made your favorite sausage and biscuits for our mid-day meal."

"Will you race me father?" Jacob excitedly asks. His appaloosa mare is biting at the bit and pawing at the ground, eager to take flight.

"Go ahead Charles," Edward encourages while pulling the reins over Sampson's head. "I'll see to it that Isabella is returned safe and sound."

Rising to his feet, Edward offers his outstretched hand to her. Without hesitation she slips her small hand in his. Both are startled by the sudden charge flowing between their fingers. Effortlessly he helps lift her on top of his horse so that both her legs are dangling off to one side.

Seeing that his daughter is in capable hands and given that the stables aren't very far, he nods his approval to Edward before mounting and giving his horse a swift tap of his heel. As Jacob and Charles' horses break out into a full gallop, Sampson prances and sidesteps almost unseating Isabella in an effort to join them. Taking a firm grasp of the reins in one hand, he strokes the gelding's neck with the other while speaking in a low, steady voice to calm him.

"Take it easy boy," Isabella says soothingly while running her hand over her horse's white mane.

"He's a spirited beast," Edward appreciatively remarks as he walks along side Sampson. "Do you ride often Isabella?" He only has about a million questions that he would like to ask her.

"Not as often as I'd like." She sighs. "Are you an equestrian?" She chides herself for asking such an obvious question after having just witnessing his good riding form.

Chuckling, he shakes his head. "Hardly, I prefer boating."

"So you like the water," she casually remarks. "For that reason alone, I'm certain that you and my father must get along famously. He and Jacob go fishing every chance they can."

Edward glances up at her. "Your father is a fine man and a shrewd businessman and I quite enjoy your brother's youthful enthusiasm. Your father asked if I would be interested in joining them next time they go fishing. He mentioned it being on an island somewhere ..."

"That would be our summer cottage on Wellesley Island in upstate New York." Isabella is surprised by the relative ease in which she's able to converse with him. His voice … his lovely British accent … she could listen to him talk all day. "You should accept his invitation. It is very beautiful there. I'm certain you would enjoy yourself."

They continue following the path that cuts through the woods. When Edward pulls back the reins, Sampson halts. Isabella wears a speculative expression.

Taking a deep breath, Edward boldly asks, "Might you be there as well?"

Blushing yet again, she sadly shakes her head. "It is most unlikely. Normally my family and I spend the summer months up there but this year …"

"This year there is to be a wedding," he finishes her sentence.

When she nods, he's both surprised and confused by the depth of emotion that envelops him. How can this young woman possibly mean anything to him? After all, they've only just met. Is it merely physical attraction? Because if that is all it is, he can dismiss these unfamiliar feelings as he already has a regular paid consort who takes care of his needs. What of her temperament not to mention her likes and dislikes? They may not be compatible at all. But instinctively he knows that he is wrong and that Isabella is indeed the woman he's been searching for. He's certain of it and her betrothal to another pains him.

"How long do I have?" he mutters under his breath.

"I'm sorry. Did you say something Mr. Masen?" she asks trying to interpret the forlorn expression on his handsome face.

"Edward – please call me Edward, Isabella," he implores with his emerald eyes boring into hers. "Is there a wedding date set?"

"The seventeenth of June … Edward," she replies and mirrors his gaze.

Unable to mask her true feelings with regards to her imminent marriage, she quickly turns away. If only they had met earlier. She would have been free to explore the strong and palpable connection that is drawing her towards him. But it is too late. Another wave of sadness washes over her. An unwelcome thought enters her mind. Perhaps whatever she is feeling for Edward is one-sided. She cannot allow herself to assume that he's feeling the same.

Isabella discreetly takes another look at him. He is staring down at the ground, his boot making tracks in the dirt. Unmistakably he is older than she is but even so, he is still dashingly handsome. Although he wears no wedding band, it is not unusual for a man not to. Suddenly feeling foolish, she reasons that Edward probably has a wife and several children at home. A pang of jealously towards a woman she doesn't even know exists surprises her. The sound of his voice snaps her from her wayward thoughts.

"Your fiancé is a very lucky man," he says watching her reaction closely. He suddenly wonders whether her resulting blush is due to thoughts of her intended. He frowns and the words spill from his mouth before he can filter them. "But he is not good enough for you."

Immediately he regrets having spoken them, as he is painfully aware of having just overstepped the boundaries of acceptable conversation.

Inflamed by his unexpected rudeness, Isabella snaps, "You are being rather presumptuous, Mr. Masen. I'll have you know that Michael Newton is a fine man with an impeccable reputation and I'll not have you speak ill of him."

"My apologies … I assure you Isabella that it wasn't my intent to demonize your Mr. Newton," his voice remorseful. "I only meant that a mere mortal man could not possibly be worthy of one of God's heavenly angels such as yourself."

Deciding to go for broke Edward then asks the question foremost on his mind. "Tell me Isabella, do you love him?"

Isabella gasps and stutters. "I ... I don't see how that is any of your concern."

Her mouth dangles open, shocked by the audacity of Edward's inappropriate inquiry. It's simply unheard of for anyone to openly question a woman's motives for entering into a marriage, let alone a virtual stranger. Weren't the English supposed to be known for their reserve?

Dismounting, she immediately walks away from a very startled Edward. No doubt Miss Julliard would disapprove of her unladylike outburst. But then again Miss Julliard never covered in one of her many endless lessons how one would gracefully disengage themselves from a gentleman whose behavior was anything less than gentlemanly.

Sampson lets out a snort, rubbing his head against Edward's shoulder and pushing him forward. Taking several long strides, he is able to catch up to her fairly quickly.

"Please forgive me, Isabella," he says, catching his breath. "I don't know what came over me. I'm usually not so forward." He catches her glancing in his direction and for a brief moment spots a trace smile crossing her lovely face.

"I accept your apology, Mr. Masen," she replies softly. "We'll not speak of this again."

Together they walk the remainder of the way to the stables in contemplative silence. As soon as they're within its sight, Jacob excitedly rushes out to greet them. Recognizing the telltale signs, Isabella is certain her brother has news that he is dying to divulge.

"What took you both so long?" Jacob grins and falls into step along side of her. Without waiting for a response, he smirks and adds, "There is a surprise waiting for you in the barn."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" She tilts her head and rubs her hand over his head, messing up further his already unruly hair.

Jacob shakes free and laughs, "Of course not silly, then it wouldn't be a surprise." Running to the other side, he takes the reins from Edward. "I'll take Sampson from here."

Edward and Isabella linger outside and watch as Jacob brings Sampson inside the stable. Turning towards each other, they both speak simultaneously.

"Edward …"

"Isabella …"

A third voice joins theirs when Michael steps out of the shadows.

"Isabella …"

"Michael?"

"Darling …" Michael quickly darts over to Isabella's side and takes hold of her hand. "So eager was I to be with you, my dear that I moved heaven and earth to arrive home a day earlier than planned. Tell me you're pleased."

Isabella is slightly flustered having both Edward and Michael standing between her. Both are staring at her in eager anticipation.

"Yes, of course I am, Michael," she stammers, giving him a tentative smile.

Encouraged, Michael unexpectedly takes Isabella into his arms and swoops down, planting a not-so chaste kiss on her mouth. He lingers at her lips a little longer than appropriate and from the corner of her eye; she notices the strained expression on Edward's face. Before pulling away from Michael's grasp, she imagines herself being in Edward's arms and it is his lips touching hers. Her heart skip a beat at the very thought.

An awkward, uncomfortable silence descends upon the trio. Isabella is embarrassed by her fiancé's bold and uncharacteristic display of affection but surmises its cause. Plain and simple, Michael is jealous. Even though she's done nothing to be guilty of per se, she suddenly feels the need to explain herself.

"I was out walking the fields, getting some fresh air … the sun was ever so strong and I felt myself weaken …" she says without taking a breath. A pang of authentic guilt washes over her as she omits the real cause for her fainting. "I'm ever so grateful to Mr. Masen for noticing my distress and coming to my rescue."

Edward turns and offers his hand to Michael to shake. "I'm Edward Masen. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Michael Newton, Isabella's fiancé," he replies emphasizing the word, 'fiancé' and gives Edward's hand a firm squeeze. "How fortunate for us to have a bona fide knight in shining armor passing through, just in a knick of time. It seems I am in your debt, Mr. Masen."

Isabella sighs heavily as the two adversaries for her heart quickly surmise and assess each other. She's in quite the quandary. Promised to one and longing for the other. Whatever will she do?

~ih~

Dark maple paneling cover the walls of Charles Swan's study. Evidence of his many hunting conquests are mounted and hung on the walls, deer, elk and moose to name a few. There's even a full-size, fierce looking, Grizzly bear from his hunting trip to Montana standing off to the right side of his desk. Directly behind the desk is his award winning eleven-pound largemouth bass that he caught in Florida the previous spring. Overall, it is a masculine but comfortable room that befits a man of his eminent stature. Edward sinks into the olive green leather armchair and leans forward as Charles lights the cigar he's handed to him. Puffing on it gently until the flame jumps, he rotates the cigar while occasionally blowing on the foot so as to ensure an even burn. Edward then watches impassively as Charles pours single malt scotch – neat, from his reserve inventory into two glasses.

Normally a social drinker only when necessary, Edward now longs for the alcohol's mind numbing effect to flow through his veins and relax him. After the afternoon he's had and having just sat through dinner being forced to watch as Michael made a deliberate point of touching Isabella at every opportunity, Edward had little doubt he could probably down the entire bottle on his own. Taking a long swig, he savors the burning sensation as the scotch travels down his throat.

He's dismayed by the recent turn of events and reprimands himself for feeling like a silly, lovesick, schoolboy. For the hundredth time, he reminds himself that Isabella is engaged to be married. In other words, she is off limits. He wonders if that is her appeal, forbidden fruit so to speak but quickly dismisses that thought when recalling his initial reaction before seeing her ring. With growing clarity, Edward realizes that what he really wants is for Isabella to be his.

"There's nothing quite like it, is there?" Charles off-handedly remarks while rolling his shoulders back. "Didn't I tell you the sweet country air would do you wonders? It isn't healthy breathing the city's vapors continuously without taking a break from time to time."

Edward smiles and replies, "Well it's those vapors that have helped make you a shit load of money, Charles. Perhaps I should sell my stock brokerage firm and go raise chickens and pigs instead."

Charles lets out a hearty laugh. "Now that, I would pay to see. I think there is a farm for sale nearby. Of course my wife and her cronies would then have a field day trying to marry you off." He shakes his head. "No Edward, I say stay in New York and continue to live the carefree life of a bachelor. And I'll continue to live vicariously through you imagining all the beautiful women that are at your disposal."

"Actually my life is not as exciting as you may think. Sometimes it's downright lonely …" Edward's voice trails off. "I may have need of your wife's matchmaking services in finding a suitable spouse after all."

"Shhh … don't say that too loudly. She has hearing like a hawk," he whispers, his eyes darting towards the door. "Get a dog instead." To which both men howl with unbridled laughter.

"Seriously Edward, I can't thank you enough. My family and I, although thankfully they are unaware of the dire situation my company recently found itself in, are deeply indebted to you." Charles pours them both another scotch. "I have to hand it to you. You certainly have the Midas touch when it comes to investing and making money."

"You're very welcome Charles and Masen and Pierce Ltd. thanks you as well." Edward raises his glass and proposes a toast. "Here's to the future and a most lucrative business arrangement. The sky is the limit."

"Hell Edward," Charles says after downing his drink in one shot. "If I wasn't already married, I'd marry you myself!"

Edward reaches for the scotch and pours yet another drink. "Hate to disappoint you old boy, but you just aren't pretty enough." Emboldened by drink, Edward then asks, "He seems like a nice enough chap but tell me why is your daughter marrying that boy?"

Filling his glass, Charles shrugs, "You'd have to ask my wife that question. I believe she's under the impression that Michael is going to be the next Goddamn President or that he's the Prince of Wales or maybe even Jesus Christ. I don't really know and I've learned it's better not to ask."

Edward laughs and artfully changes the subject. "So when did you want to go fishing?"

* * *

**A/N: Don't you just love surprises? Poor Bella is in a tough spot and in more ways than one. At least we know that Edward is as equally smitten with her as she is with him. Stay tuned ... on Sunday we'll learn more about Edward's past.**


	4. IH: Visions from the Past Part III

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: ****Stephanie Meyers owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: Edward and Isabella's early lives couldn't have been more different. Was it fate or circumstance that drew them together? Or was it that inexplicable 'something else' for which there are no words? **

**Thank you Beta T, LovinRob for EVERYTHING! This is for YOU!**

* * *

**Illuminating Hope**

Voice from the Past Part III

November 1879

Opening his eyelids, Edward rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. As a growing lad he was continually hungry and his stomach was growling. It was nearly as loud as the hushed voices coming from the other bedroom. This combined with the sudden rush of cold air that hit his backside when his younger brother, Daniel, rolled over taking the blanket with him, caused him to stir. It was still dark. The last embers of coal burning from the stove inside the kitchen seeped into the cramped room that he shared with his four brothers. Yanking on the blanket, Edward freed it from his brother's tight grasp and repositioned it over himself. He inhaled sharply when a protesting foot struck his testicles.

"Sod off you little bugger," Edward muttered stifling a yell and shoved his assailant's shoulder. Daniel moaned and shifted closer on the bed to his twin, Thomas.

Edward closed his eyes and waited for sleep to reclaim him but his parent's voices prevented this from happening. He felt a momentary pang of guilt listening in on their private conversation but reasoned it wasn't his fault. It was the thin wall that was to blame. By the tone of his mum's voice, he knew she was upset about something. Listening more carefully, he needed to know why that was. Was it something he had done?

"Don't worry my darling," Edward's father said soothingly. "Somehow we'll manage. We always have. After Christmas Richard will come and work in the factory with me and I can request more hours …"

"Richard is but fifteen … he's just a boy," Edward's mum lamented. "And we barely see you now William. Your sons are in dire need of their father's fine example and firm guidance. Albert and his mates have been getting into all sorts of trouble and I'm afraid …"

"Hush now Elizabeth, I'll have a talk with Albert and I'll ask Edward to keep a close eye on him." William reassures her. "Although you're sadly mistaken, I was Richard's age when I first brought in a daily wage."

It was silent for the next minute or so except for the sounds of heavy breathing and lips smacking. Edward winced and silently prayed that the coils of his parent's mattress didn't start to creak. He may only be thirteen but he knew what that sound meant. Most nights when his parents believed their brood was fast asleep, it began; his father's deep-guttural grunts matched those of the bed. When he was younger and naïve, he once asked his mum why her bed was so noisy at night. He remembered how her face had reddened and she stammered when telling him that his father was a restless sleeper before abruptly changing the subject. Afterwards his older brother Richard took him outside and set him straight explaining the basic crude facts of life. At first Edward did not believe him. Surely, his father wouldn't do that to his mum. But one night with an eye pressed against the small crack in the adjoining wall he was convinced that Richard had told him the truth.

"Perhaps this time Liz, you'll have the daughter you've longed for," his father said softly.

"You say that every time Will," his mum replied. "I only pray that the good Lord bestows us with a healthy baby. And here I thought my fertile days were behind me as it's been seven years since I birthed Daniel and Thomas."

"Apparently not," William laughs heartily. "Not unless you close your legs."

"Perhaps that is what I should be doing," Elizabeth huffs feigning righteous indignation.

Slowly the bed begins its protest and he hears his mum's moans and his father's grunts. Before placing his pillow over his head to drown out the noise, Edward heard his father say, "Admit it Mrs. Cullen, you'd miss my stiff member scratching your itch."

The following year was far more difficult than Edward's mother had feared. Richard had gone to work with their father. They labored from dawn until dark, six days a week in an effort to keep the roof over their heads and food on the table. The nightly creaking of his parent's bed was often the only way in which Edward knew his father had returned home.

As more responsibility was placed on his young shoulders, Edward willingly and without complaint did his part and stopped going to school. He had been a passionate student while his younger brothers frequently voiced their displeasure over having to do their studies. A voracious reader, Edward often read stories about far away places such as in Robinson Crusoe to his mum and brothers by candlelight in the evening. His personal favorite was Moby Dick as he often dreamt of adventures sailing the ocean seas with Captain Ahab.

"One day mum, I'm going to go to America," Edward said with conviction. "I'm going to be rich and live in a glorious house. Then I'll send for you and father."

Talk of her son leaving always disturbed Elizabeth but she'd play along and humor him.

"What of your brothers?" she asked. "Will you send for them as well?"

"Richard, Daniel and Thomas may come," he said thoughtfully. "But unless Albert changes his ways, I'll not have him soil the impeccable reputation I'll have garnered."

He smiled when witnessing his mother's sweet laughter as he rarely heard it anymore. Much less so after the arrival of John later that spring. He often caught sight of his mum's red swollen eyes, as his new brother was a frail and sickly baby having been born too soon. Without the means to pay for a doctor she tried to hide her near constant worry from her family. But opportunity soon came knocking on their door when their elderly neighbor took pity and asked Elizabeth to help with her laundry business. At first Edward's father wouldn't hear of it, as he was a proud man. But eventually he came around when convinced she would not have to leave the home. Soon there was a little extra income and baby John's health improved considerably. Early each morning she'd send Edward to pick up her customer's soiled clothes and later deliver them clean in the evening.

In the hours in between, Edward sold newspapers on the street corners of downtown London and before selling his last copy, he always made certain to read it thoroughly. He watched with longing as businessmen dressed in impeccable attire occasionally tossed him an extra shilling or two as they bought their newspaper and raced on to their important meetings. They barely took notice of the tall, thin, poorly dressed lad with hungry eyes.

Edward's efforts to reign in Albert and keep him on the straight and narrow path were much less successful. His brother's band of troubled hooligan's frequently stole food from street cart vendors and narrowly outran the law. They were also involved in street fights over area turf rights with other minor delinquents. As a result Edward frequently found himself defending his brother and participating in Albert's bloody brawls. Afterwards, Edward would drag his brother back home and threaten to disclose his devious ways to their father unless he promised to change. This worked for a while until Albert slipped back with his mates. Truthfully Edward actually enjoyed the occasional head bashing, as it was a means by which he could release his mounting frustrations over his family's continual and never-ending cycle of poverty.

By the time the Christmas holidays approached, Edward once again overheard his parent's hushed voices during the night. He heard his mother's cries when informing her husband that she was again with child. Their bed remained painfully silent.

Later while out on his street corner selling his newspapers, Edward overheard two gentlemen discussing their company's large shipment of non-perishable goods being sent by barge ship to New York the following day. After selling his last paper he made his way quickly to the harbor and found the ship the men had spoken of. Watching the longshoremen load the large vessel, Edward quickly hatched a plan. He was determined to be on that ship when it set sail. Racing home he threw the few garments he owned along with a loaf of bread and a chunk of wrapped cheese inside his pillow sack before sitting down to write his parents a farewell note.

_Dear Mum and Dad, _

_I've decided to strike out on my own and make my fortune. _

_Please do not search for me, as you will not find me. I promise I'll send word and coin as soon as I've settled. _

_I love you both … your son, Edward Anthony Masen_

Leaving his family's small row house in the cover of night was harder than Edward imagined it would be. He almost turned around and walked back inside. But then he reminded himself of the great adventure he was going to have and how proud they'd be of him one day. He prayed his father would understand and his mother wouldn't be too upset. It was a far easier task to sneak on the barge ship undetected than he anticipated. With the few guards huddled around a fire burning in a large trashcan and drinking strong spirits, he slipped inside the vessel practically right under their noses.

Inside the main entrance there were a few lit lanterns. But which direction should he go? He heard voices from within the office straight ahead. Moving off to the side behind a row of floor-to-ceiling stacked crates, he listened as two men spoke.

"Have you finished counting the inventory Sam?" A gruff male voice barked. "We're on a tight schedule. I expect to shove off within the hour."

"Aye Captain," Sam replied. "I've only one small section near port to finish counting. I was waiting until the food supplies were unloaded but I've been told that they're done now."

"Be off then," the Captain ordered.

Footsteps marched out of the office and in the opposite direction where Edward had been hiding. Very quietly Edward skirted along the mountainous row of crates until reaching the far end. Slipping his thin frame between an open row of stacked cases, he sat down and curled up. Resting his head on his pillow sack he drifted off to sleep.

Edward wasn't certain how long he'd been asleep. It could have been minutes, hours or even a day but one thing was for certain, the ship was moving. He was out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean – a stowaway on a large barge ship headed for America. A thrill of excitement coursed through his veins until a more familiar one, hunger, took over. With the kitchen knife he'd taken from home, he sliced a thin piece of bread and an even thinner piece of cheese and ate slowly. Knowing they'd be at sea for the next four or five days, he knew he'd have to sparingly ration his food. Water was a different story. In his eagerness to pack and be off, he'd forgotten to bring a canteen of water. Somewhere on this ship he'd have to find some. He remembered reading that the human body could go two weeks without food but only three days without water and he was thirsty.

Leaving his pillow sack behind, Edward made his way back towards the entryway. The smell of food enticed and beckoned him forward. The closer he came he could hear the men's voices. He counted ten. All were laughing, talking and eating at tables in the galley. His stomach rumbled loudly and his throat felt parched. He stepped forward and entered the open door of the kitchen hoping to grab a morsel and find something to drink before heading back to his hiding spot. On top of the stove was a steaming pot of stew and beside it were bowls and spoons. Looking over his shoulder and finding no one in sight, he took a bowl and quickly filled it. He then grabbed a spoon, took his bowl and tiptoed back to his hiding spot. His thirst quenched and his hunger temporarily abated, Edward fell back to sleep.

It continued this way for the next three days. When it was very quiet, Edward would sneak off to the kitchen. He managed to bring back a slab of salt pork and cheddar cheese, a bowl of porridge and two loaves of bread without being detected. He discovered the keg of ale in the pantry and drank heartily from it each time. The strong drink enabled him to sleep and sleep and sleep.

On the morning of the fourth day he discovered a bowl of limes and apples on top of the kitchen counter. As his hand reached out to take one, he felt the warmth of their breath on the back of his neck before their arms encircled his and ensnared him tightly.

"Got the little rat!" A bald, portly man cried out. "Think you can hide on me ship and steal do you?"

"Let go of me!" Edward cried loudly while attempting to pry himself loose from their tentacles. "Please … I …"

"We'll let go of you all right." The tall, thin man beside him snarled. "First we'll bring you up on deck and then we'll feed you to the sharks."

"I'm sorry … no don't, please sir," Edward cajoled and pleaded. "I beg mercy kind sir. I only wished to start a new life in America.

Suddenly both men went silent and still. Edward stopped struggling and found himself looking straight into the face of the steely Captain.

"What the hell is going on Harry," the Captain asked looking at the bald, portly man. "What is this boy doing on my ship?"

"A stowaway, sir," Harry answered, his face looking as if he'd sucked on one too many lemons.

"We're going to teach him what we do to stowaways," the tall, thin man added.

"You'll do no such thing Dudley," the Captain retorted firmly. "Take your hands off of him." The two men immediately released their tight hold.

"What is your name, boy?" the Captain asked.

"Edward, sir."

"What is your surname?"

The wheels were spinning fast inside Edward's head. If he responded in truth and answered 'Masen' they might discover that he'd run away from home and send him back. Instead he quickly scanned the room. His eyes rested on the label of a cardboard box of canned fruit that read 'Dole Produce'.

"Dole, sir," he swallowed and repeated. "Edward Anthony Dole, sir."

"Why are you on my ship Edward Anthony Dole?" the Captain inquired. "Where do you originate from?"

"Nowhere, sir," Edward replied. "I'm an orphan from the streets of London. My dream is to go to America and make my fortune, sir."

The Captain laughed, amused by the simplicity of the boys beliefs. He took a closer look at Edward – tall, very thin with dirty bronze hair that was in desperate need of a haircut and piercing emerald green eyes. Pain washed over the Captain as the boy standing before him bore a striking resemblance to his own son – his much beloved and deceased son.

"How old are you Edward?" the Captain asked softly.

"Fourteen, sir."

"The world is a cruel place Edward as I'm sure you are aware," he muttered. "Sometimes but not often, fate and circumstance as well as God's good grace, come together and present opportunity for something good to arise from the bad. Are you following me son?"

Edward nodded but truthfully he had no idea what the Captain was alluding to. He only knew that he'd say anything so as not to become food for fish.

~ih~

April 1893

The tranquil weekend in the country that Charles promised him turned into something entirely different, the moment Edward met his daughter. On the last evening of his visit, Easter Sunday to be exact, Edward found himself seated opposite Charles at his magnificent dining room table. He'd been enjoying the delicious, mouth-watering holiday spread while regaling the story of his boyhood and how he came to America.

Suddenly Edward is aware that everyone has stopped eating and is staring at him, their mouths hung open. Edward gives a small apologetic smile, realizing he has monopolized the conversation. But it had been years since he'd last spoken of it. Of course, he glossed over the extent of his parent's frequent randy jousts in the bedroom. That would have been inappropriate dinner conversation especially with ladies present. Edward glances across the table to find that the very beautiful Isabella is gazing at him with a dubious expression on her lovely face. Is it astonishment or possibly admiration? Could it be something else entirely? The young man seated beside her is practically throwing daggers in his direction.

"What happened after you landed in New York, Mr. Masen?" Isabella inquires, smiling sweetly at him.

"Please call me Edward, Isabella," he asks yet again. Her name rolls like silk off the back of his tongue. It pleases him when she blushes and it occurs to him that she does so frequently when in his presence.

"I was fortunate enough to go and live with Captain Carlisle Cullen and his sweet wife, Esme," he flashes another smile at her and is pleased when her blush deepens. Her glaring companion takes notice as well.

"Why would they take you in? You were nothing but a poor, lying vagrant." Michael sneers with disgust.

"Yes, that I was. That much is true. But they must have seen something in me before deciding to take a chance and raise me as their own son. Of course I eventually revealed my true identity and the Captain and his wife contacted my mum and dad. After receiving my parent's approval, Captain Cullen enrolled me in his alma mater, Browning Academy for Boys in New York City where I excelled beyond theirs and my own wildest expectations. I earned a full scholarship to Princeton where I studied Economics and Politics. After graduating my guardians helped to finance mine and my colleague, Sheldon Pierce's business venture." Edward pauses. "I believe most of you are familiar with the background of Masen and Pierce Ltd., so I won't bore you with the details."

"What of your family in London?" Charles asks. "Did you ever return?"

"Yes I have. Over the years, I regularly wrote my mum and sent her whatever money I could. The more successful I became, the more money I sent." Edward lets out a deep sigh. "I returned to England for my father's funeral two years ago. While much had changed, some things had not. Three of my brothers had gotten married and moved out. My brother Albert ended up in prison for burglary. It was only my little sister Charlotte, whom I never laid eyes on and my mum that greeted me when I returned. I've begged them to come to the States but so far they've refused. My mum says her roots are firmly planted."

"Are you married Mr. Masen?" Isabella's mother, Renee raises an eyebrow and inquires none too discreetly.

Edward slowly shakes his head. "Sadly, no, Mrs. Swan." Again he cast his eyes directly at Isabella. "I've been waiting for the right woman to come along."

Isabella meets his gaze with a radiant and resounding smile.

* * *

**A/N: And the rest is … shall we say … history! There is still more to this story so please come back on Friday. **

**On a personal note, Edward's leaving his home and his country was similar to what my own father had done and I kind of borrowed it for this chapter ...**

**It was 1956 and m****y father had just turned eighteen when Soviet troops invaded Budapest. He and a few close friends devised a hasty plan to leave Hungary in the hope of a better future. So in the middle of the night, he wrote his mother a note, kissed his baby sister goodbye and left. He joined his friends and together on foot, they walked and made their way to the Austrian border over a hundred away to make their escape (it really is quite the story). It was twelve years before he returned home again ... this time with his wife and two very young children. xC**


	5. IH: Visions from the Past Part IV

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: ****Stephanie Meyers owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: The clock is ticking and getting louder by the minute. Time is not in Edwards or Bella's favor. Was it ever? There are many factors in place working against these two ever coming together. But since you already know the ending … sit back, relax and read, as their love story unfolds. **

**Beta T, LovinRob, you already know how I feel. Thank you.**

* * *

**Illuminating Hope**

Voices from the Past Part IV

May 1893

Securing a few loose strands of hair, Isabella gazes at her image in the large oval mirror. Dressed in an exquisite royal blue satin ball gown that was made especially for her engagement gala last winter, she tries on several facial expressions hoping to decide which one she'd like to see captured forever. Should she smile wide and show some teeth? Or perhaps her mouth should be closed with just the trace of a smile? No smile at all? Playfully she sticks out her tongue.

"Oh, Isabella," her mother squeals. "Only three short weeks until the day I've dreamt of since the moment you were born comes true. You'll be a married woman, to a man who is worthy of you."

Isabella sighs heavily. "I'm glad I wasn't a disappointment to you, mother."

Her mother rushes to her side. In a rare display of affection, she gently cups her daughter's cheek. "You have been my joy. If I've seemed overly harsh and unyielding at times, it is only because I've had your best interests at heart my dear. You'll see … someday when you have your own daughter."

Her mother reaches for her handkerchief and wipes the tears that spring from her eyes. "Maybe this time next year, God willing, I'll be holding my first grandchild which reminds me… I think it's high time we discuss your wedding night."

Isabella flushes. As a result of having seen her brother naked as an infant, she is aware that there are physical differences between the sexes. But exactly what happens after she says her marriage vow is still a great mystery to her.

Guiding her towards the bed, her mother pats the mattress and gestures for her to take a seat. With her eyes closed, she mouths a prayer for guidance. Isabella notes that her mother appears to be as uncomfortable with the subject at hand as she is.

_It can't be as bad as all that, can it?_ Isabella wonders silently.

"In general, men are … how do I put this delicately? They have inherent primitive needs …" Isabella watches in amazement as her mother stutters and blushes profusely. "Your husband will have … certain expectations of you in the bedroom when he chooses to exercise his … rights. My advice to you when he does is to lie very still and close your eyes. Try and think of something pleasant while he climbs on top of you. If you are lucky, it won't last but a minute or two … the first time is generally the most painful. But unfortunately it is your wifely duty and there is no other way to conceive a child."

"How often will he expect this of me?" she tentatively asks.

Isabella shudders, imaging herself writhing in pain as Michael does unspeakable things to her body.

"Initially … almost every night, but there are legitimate excuses that you can give him for abstaining, such as your monthly or the proverbial headache," her voice trails off. "Of course, once you are with child, his demands will lessen. If you are lucky, he'll find comfort elsewhere."

_What does that mean? _Isabella wears a horrified expression. _He might find comfort in the arms of another woman?_

This concept had never occurred to her before. She didn't recall it being mentioned in any of her many novels. Surprisingly, the thought of Michael with another woman didn't disturb her as much as she thought it should.

_I cannot possibly love him._

Stunned by her mother's statement and her own revelation, Isabella has a slew of questions she'd like to ask but a knock on the door brings their conversation to an abrupt end.

"Marcus is ready for you Isabella," Angela says cracking the door open slightly. "You'd better hurry. He's insisting that the light coming through the drawing room is perfect."

Isabella's mother squeezes her hand gently. "I'm so glad we've gotten this unpleasant conversation out of the way. Don't worry dear, everything will be fine."

Jumping off the bed, Renee heads towards the door. "Come now Isabella, you don't want to keep him waiting. Although, I still don't understand why you insisted that Marcus paint your portrait. I would have been more than happy to have brought you to any number of renowned artists in New York City."

Inwardly Isabella smiles, knowing exactly why she picked Marcus, the local Thousand Island's artist, albeit it's only artist, to paint her portrait. In the weeks following Edward's visit to her family's estate in Connecticut, she'd been unable to think of little else. Even though they didn't have another moment alone together, there were times when she'd catch Edward watching her. Her heart quickened each and every time. And after he left, Edward continued to consume her every waking minute as well as her dreams at night. Every morning she'd awaken disappointed when realizing they hadn't been real. It pained her to know that she might never lay eyes on him again.

But fate shined down on her. When learning the details of her father's fishing plans that included Edward as well as Michael and his best man, Theodore Bates, she somehow managed to convince her mother that spending a little time in the serene tranquility of the islands was exactly what she needed to help sooth her pre-wedding jitters. Insisting that Marcus paint her portrait strengthened her case.

Earlier in the week she and her mother along with her brother, Jacob, and bridesmaids, Angela and Eloise, rode the train to Syracuse. Once there they were met by Harry, their groundskeeper, who then drove them by carriage to Alexandria Bay in the Thousand Islands. From there a short motorboat ride brought them to their cottage on Wellesley Island. Any minute now her father and his guests were expected to arrive.

Marcus spends the next half hour angling her chair and positioning her body just so before picking up his brush. He's banished her mother from the drawing room after she interfered one too many times. Angela and Eloise are sitting on the couch at the back of the room, trying to be as silent as church mice.

"No Isabella!" Marcus throws his hands up in the air in exasperation and chastises her yet again. "Could you please try for that wistful, longing expression that we agreed on? You look as though your dog died. Innocence … that is what I am hoping to capture here."

Isabella frowns in response. It seems no matter how hard she tries she's unable to please him. Maybe she should have gone to one of those renowned artists in the city like her mother had suggested. Her friends aren't helping matters when they fail to stifle their whispering and non-stop giggling. Soon they too are banished from the room.

After several more attempts, Marcus dramatically exclaims, "That's it! Don't move a muscle!"

Unfortunately for Isabella, the pained expression she wears is caused by her urgent need to relieve herself.

~ih~

As the motorboat edges closer towards Wellesley Island, Edward is mesmerized by the magnificence that is all around him. Islands of various shapes and sizes are scattered on the crystal clear waters of the Saint Lawrence River. As Charles drives his motorboat, he makes a point of informing Edward as to who owns what and which island may soon be available for purchase. The long list reads like a 'who's who' of the most affluent and powerful families in the country.

At the onset of their fishing trip Michael had been cordial towards him, especially in front of his future father-in-law but with each passing mile Edward sensed his growing hostility. Now holed up inside the small boat cabin with his mate, Theo, they are laughing and carrying on like a bunch of hyenas. Having heard snippets of their inane banter, Edward is fairly confident that they've been passing the flask between them. They remind him of the 'trust fund' boys, as he referred to them while in college; bloody rich and terribly cocky lads. Neither of which was a good combination, as these boys were inebriated more often than not and were prone to frequent juvenile acts of sheer stupidity. Edward was of the opinion that he hadn't been entirely off the mark when telling Isabella her fiancé wasn't good enough for her. Edward seriously doubted whether Michael had ever done a hard day's work in his life or for that matter, had the slightest clue as to what it felt like to go to bed hungry as he had.

Not that Edward believed for one second that he, himself, was good enough for the extraordinary and lovely Miss Swan. Quite the contrary. Even though Edward had done everything possible to better himself and was considerably wealthy, more so than the Newton's and the Swan's fortunes combined, deep down he was still that poor lad who sold newspapers on the street corners of London. But in spite of his perceived inadequacy, he was unable to think of little else except for ways in which to see Isabella again without seeming too obvious. Eventually he came to the sad conclusion that it simply wasn't possible. But then fate intervened when Charles broached the subject of fishing at his cottage once again and this time mentioned that his family would be there as well. Edward didn't hesitate in accepting the invitation and ever since he's been beside himself with excitement at the prospect of seeing her once more.

"There she is." Charles points towards the largest landmass they've seen yet. Its sprawling grounds are covered in lush green grass as far as the eye can see. "Wellesley Island… my family's summer home away from home."

"Most impressive Charles," Edward replies with sincerity.

The Swan's summer cottage resembles an old-world style European Swiss chalet – a very large and elegant Swiss chalet. Painted chocolate brown with cream-colored shudders, there are four full stories and another two smaller ones just below the triangular tiled roof. Affixed in front of each of the white-laced curtain windows are wooden flower boxes brimming with blooming red geraniums. The front entrance with its white and red-stripped canvas canopy that runs the entire length of the house resembles an outdoor bistro. Underneath the canopy are clusters of white wicker tables and chairs, perfect for sitting outside and enjoying an afternoon tea or an evening coffee. Of course, the view overlooking the water is beyond spectacular.

Charles slows the engine and maneuvers his boat alongside the dock. Edward and Jacob quickly jump out and secure the mooring lines to the dock. Harry unloads their baggage before he and Jacob begin carrying as many of them as they can up the cobblestone path to the main house. Charles keeps pace with Edward, who is holding his own bag. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Edward shakes his head when seeing Michael and Theo stumble their way out of the cabin, still laughing and carrying on.

The sound of Charles and Edward's shoes tapping across the foyer's hardwood floor, startle the two young women who've been religiously taking turns peering through the slit of the drawing room door. Immediately the tall, thin girl shuts the door closed. Recognizing the rotund girl with the sweet disposition from the Swan's holiday dinner table as being Michael Newton's sister, Edward casts a warm smile in her direction. Her cheeks redden at once and she is rendered completely dumbstruck.

"What on earth is going on in there?" Charles barks. "On second thought, I don't want to know." Muttering undecipherable words underneath his breath, he then heads over to the staircase and waits for Edward.

"Hello Eloise," Edward says cheerfully. "How splendid that we should meet again, who might your friend be?"

Eloise's face strains in an effort to find her voice, let alone remember who is standing beside her. A few uncomfortable seconds later, she manages to squeak out, "Ah … um … Angela Weber."

"Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Weber."

It's with natural ease that Edward is able to turn on the charm and with another flash of his dazzling smile; he casts his spell on Angela as well. Not wanting to cause either girl any further discomfort he follows Charles up the staircase and chuckles to himself. As Michael enters the house, he immediately starts quizzing his sister as to Isabella's whereabouts. Edward strains without success to hear her response.

After settling in his room Edward pulls back the lace curtain and looks out the window. With at least another hour before dinner is set to be served, he decides to stretch his legs and take a walk around the grounds. The house is fairly quiet as he makes his way down past the staircase and through the hallway. He doesn't encounter anyone. The only sounds he can hear are the shuffling of pots and pans mixed with the occasional squeal of laughter drifting from the kitchen, that and the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. Turning the front doorknob, he slips outside.

Pausing on the cobblestone crossway, he takes several deep cleansing breaths and admires the magnificent view. As the sun sets over the Saint Lawrence River, it paints a stunning canvas of pastel pinks, blues and purples on the evening sky. Veering to the left, he follows the path and passes a grove of fruit trees, vegetable gardens and a long, rectangular, glass-framed greenhouse. Just over the hills are rolling lush, green pastures. A dozen brown Jersey milk cows are grazing in one while a pair of Dutch Draft bays and four matching black Friesian horses are in another. A little ways past is a big red barn complete with chickens, hogs and sheep. Edward was not aware that Swan Island housed a working farm. He laughs when remembering the conversation he once had with Charles about farming.

With the sun nearly set, Edward retraces his steps and heads back to the cottage but at the last minute decides to inspect the tall lighthouse by the island's edge. The sky is now a charcoal gray and is darkening by the minute. His eye catches sight of a lone woman sitting on a bench gazing out into the water. Almost certain that the woman is Isabella; he stills and observes her from a safe distance not wanting to disturb or startle her. He wishes he could read her thoughts to know whether he's crossed her mind in the weeks since they met. Feeling rather foolish, he's about to step forward and make his presence known when suddenly she rises. Brushing her cheeks with the back of her hand, she turns and rushes along the path towards the house.

At dinner Charles is in a jovial mood, regaling everyone at the table with tales of his past fishing triumphs. Seated directly across from Isabella, Edward frequently casts an eye in her direction and is most pleased whenever she discreetly meets his gaze. No one appears to notice their silent flirting. It's as if they are in their own private bubble. Edward is desperate to be alone with her to determine whether or not she reciprocates his affections and to declare himself and his noble intentions if she does.

Isabella's mother skillfully manages to steer the conversation away from her husband's exploits. "Your mother tells me Michael, that you've finished making arrangements for your honeymoon. Is there any chance that you'll divulge the destination to us?"

Sitting beside his fiancé, Michael takes hold of her hand and looks squarely at Edward. "I'm sorry Mrs. Swan but I cannot possibly reveal our plans without first informing Isabella but I'll have you know that I've always wanted to go on safari to Africa."

Startled, Isabella pries her hand free and reaches for her water glass, her throat suddenly parched. Closing her eyes, she takes several long sips as she tries to process this information. Surely Michael must be joking. She'd sooner go to Antarctica and freeze to death. How dare he not consult her first? Shouldn't she have a say in where they go? Her ire raised, she turns and openly glares at her intended. Images of being out in the middle of nowhere, with wild animals roaming free while sleeping inside a hot and musty tent, her lying beneath a sweaty Michael as he does unspeakable things to her body, flash through her mind.

"That sounds incredible," Jacob says, barely able to contain his boyish enthusiasm. "Can I come too? I can shoot a lion or an elephant or maybe even both!"

"Sorry Jacob, not this time. It being our honeymoon, my bride and I will require plenty of alone time so we can become better acquainted with each other," Michael replies and Theo, who is seated on his other side, knowingly nudges his shoulder and chuckles.

Michael reaches for her hand again and this time, Isabella yanks it away. "I went to an awful lot of trouble making arrangements for this trip. Tell me you're pleased Isabella." Staring at her intently, he is waiting for a response. It is just dawning on him that she hasn't spoken a word to him.

"Of course she is pleased," Renee answers for her daughter, hoping to diffuse the situation. "You are very thoughtful. Isabella is most fortunate to have you as a husband."

No longer willing to suffer in silence while others speak for her, Isabella finally snaps, "Pardon me mother but Michael was addressing me, not you."

Turning to her stunned fiancé she takes a deep breath and unleashes. "I would have preferred to honeymoon in Europe. But since you didn't deem my opinion to be of any particular value, I beg to differ with my mother's premature assessment as to how fortunate I truly am."

Michael frowns, seemingly perplexed. It honestly never occurred to him that he should consult her prior to making his decision. After all, his father never discussed matters of importance with his mother. But rather than set future precedence and apologize to Isabella for his thoughtlessness, he continues on this course, unaware that he is treading on thin ice.

"Why in heavens would I want to go to Europe? I've been there several times and truly I wasn't impressed."

"Well, I've never been and I've always dreamed of going to England or France and touring the many historical places that I've read about," she sighs and glances over at Edward who appears to be struggling to hold his tongue.

Desperate to restore the peace, Renee pipes up enthusiastically, "I'm certain you will both have a splendid time together wherever it is you end up going on your honeymoon." Her eyes shoot her daughter a warning.

Charles lets out a laugh and jests, "Maybe they should take separate honeymoons. Lord knows that taking separate trips has done wonders for our marriage, hasn't it dear?"

Renee willfully ignores her husband.

Charles' biting comment releases some of the growing tension in the room and results in quiet snickers around the table, that is, all except for mother and daughter who seem to be having some sort of silent standoff.

Deciding to throw his two cents into the equation, Edward bravely joins the conversation. "I digress, Michael. I believe there is much to see in Europe such as the ancient Roman Coliseum, the romantic canals of Venice and the breath-taking Eiffel Tower. And if it's excitement you're seeking, there is always Pamplona's Bull running."

"Pampoona what?" Michael asks.

"I've heard of that." Jacob excitedly blurts out. He is practically jumping out of his chair. "It's this place in Spain where they unleash wild bulls into the streets and unless you can outrun them, they'll rip you apart with their horns."

"Silence young man," Renee turns her wrath towards her son. "We'll not speak of such barbarism at the dinner table."

"I don't suppose you've been to any of those places, have you Edward?" Michael sneers. "Growing up dirt poor couldn't possibly have presented you with many opportunities."

Edward shrugs and smiles unflustered. "Unfortunately, I've only had the pleasure of visiting Paris but I fully intend to rectify the situation now that I have the means." Looking directly at Isabella he adds, "Although I am in need of a travel companion."

Renee unleashes a shrill, nervous laugh when realizing the meaning behind Edward's comment. "That shouldn't be a problem for someone as resourceful as you, Mr. Masen. That is, not unless you plan on stowing away in steerage."

Always the consummate gentleman, Edward addresses his hostess with equal parts respect and disdain.

"No doubt the accommodations would be far superior to those out on safari." His eyes dart across the table to Isabella who is beaming up at him with glowing approval. This time their private exchange does not go unnoticed.

Placing his napkin on top of the table, Edward pushes his chair back. "It has been a very long day and if I'm to rise at the crack of dawn to try my hand at fishing, I'd best retire for the night." He stands. "It has been a most delightful evening, Mrs. Swan. Thank you."

Renee merely nods, a strained smile on her lips.

"Goodnight Edward," Isabella calls out to him as he exits the room. All eyes turn and stare at her with disbelief at her blatant breach of etiquette in calling Edward by his given name.

Turning around once more, Edward bows. "Goodnight Isabella," his voice velvety smooth and triumphant.

~ih~

There is a steady, light tapping on his bedroom door. Charles stirs and turns over pulling his blankets over his head. The tapping continues another minute before ending. The doorknob is turned and the door creaks open.

"Charles," Renee whispers. "May I please come in?"

His eyes flash open wide in surprise. "Renee?" His head darts out and he squints to see her lingering in the doorway in her nightclothes holding a lit candle.

"Who else?" she snaps.

"Have you come to warm my bed woman?" His voice is hopeful.

"Don't be ludicrous, Charles," she snorts. "We must talk. It's urgent."

"Alright then, come in." Sitting up, he scoots over to the far side of the bed and pulls the blankets back gesturing for her to climb underneath. "It's cold in here and I have no desire to get out of my warm bed and get more logs to stoke the fire just so you can talk."

Renee closes the door and puts the candleholder on the nightstand. Still wearing her robe, she lays down beside her husband. "Don't you be getting any ideas."

Charles exhales loudly. "For Christ's sake Renee, say what you have to say and let me go back to sleep."

"I don't care for your Mr. Masen and I want you to keep him away from our daughter." Even in the dim light Charles knows the look of disapproval frozen on her face.

"Pray tell, what has the man done to earn your vehement disapproval Renee?" Ever so slowly, he inches closer to his wife.

"Isn't it obvious?" Her tone is acidic.

"Umm … no," Charles can feel his manhood stirring.

"He was flirting with Isabella at the dinner table, plain as day and in front of poor Michael. So help me Charles if that man fills our daughter's head with silly romantic notions… I'll… I'll…" She startles when her husband's arms reach out and pull her closer to him. "Charles? Heavens! What are you doing?"

"What?" He asks innocently, slowly rubbing his growing erection against the side of her hip. Lowering his free hand he starts pulling up her nightgown.

"Charles! I thought we agreed … no more of your perverse shenanigans!" His leg hanging over hers prevents her from moving an inch.

"Please Renee … oh please," he whimpers and pleads. "It's been so long. I need you … I need this."

"Really Charles, you're such a … man," she says with disgust but also knowing that there will be no further discussion until he's satiated, she relents and closes her eyes before allowing him entry.

A full sixty- nine seconds later, Charles rolls off of her and onto his back. His breathing is rough from exertion and he's grinning from ear to ear. In contrast, his wife is lying very still, disgusted by the sensation of the thick, sticky fluid oozing out from between her legs.

"Can we finish our talk now?" she impatiently asks.

"Hmm …" Charles grunts, his eyes are sinking into the back of his head as he immediately falls back into sleep.

"First thing tomorrow, I want you to take Mr. Masen back to wherever he came from," she says firmly. "He is never to lay eyes on our daughter again."

"Hmm … what … wait just a minute here Renee," his eyes flash open and the peace he felt only moments ago is replaced with irritation. "Edward is a valued business associate as well as a friend. I'll not have you dictate who I can and cannot have in my home. And what is wrong with a little harmless flirtation? No, I won't do it. Edward stays and that is final."

"So help me Charles if that man does anything to interfere …"

"Edward is a good man, Renee," he interrupts what he is certain will be a long, drawn-out speech. "In all likelihood, he would make a better husband for our daughter than Michael."

"How can you say that?" Renee wails loudly. "The Newton's are fine, prominent, up-standing citizens. Edward is a foreigner. He is not one of us."

"Oh dear God," Charles barks. "Do you hear yourself? In case you've forgotten, Renee, your ancestors originated from France and mine were Scottish. We're all foreigners unless you have Mohegan or some other indigenous blood running through your veins that I don't know about."

Furiously flinging back the blankets so that they fall on the floor, Renee storms out of her husband's bed, she wraps the sash of her robe tightly around her waist, throws her head back and dramatically heads for the door.

"Keep that man away from my daughter!" Thinking she's had the last word, she opens and slams the door shut.

"Oh, I see how it is …" Charles yells loudly. "A few minutes ago, she was 'our' daughter and now suddenly she's 'your' daughter!" He sighs heavily and reaches down for the blankets. "Women … can't live with them and you can't live …" he pauses and then chuckles to himself. "… you can't live with them – period."

* * *

**A/N: There is nothing like a nice, peaceful, relaxing weekend with family and friends, now is there? Well, the players have all taken their positions and things are about to get very interesting. Oh yeah … did you enjoy the mother/daughter wedding night chat? Sadly, there was a time when women felt that way about … you know. Come to think of it, I know one or two who still feel that way … LOL … not kidding.**

**Now I would truly appreciate it if EVERYONE who has read this chapter, and I know exactly how many of you are there, would leave me a review in the form of a comment or question. Hell, I'd be happy with a smiley face ... anything! Is that too much to ask? I think not! LOL xC**


	6. IH: Visions from the Past Part V

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: ****Stephanie Meyers owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: Even I can see that Edward and Isabella share a fiercely independent spirit and are better suited for each other. No wonder Isabella is having serious doubts about her marriage. But does she have the courage to stand up to the forces that be and follow her heart?**

* * *

**Illuminating Hope**

Voices from the Past Part V

In the pre-dawn hour, five men and a teenage boy march in pairs along the cobblestone pathway to a serene and remote area of the island. In the lead is Charles holding a lantern and food basket and Edward with a fishing rod and metal pail in each hand. Jacob and Harry, who are struggling to carry two tackle boxes and bait pails in addition to their own fishing gear, follow close behind. Last but not least and trailing a good twenty feet are Michael and Theo, holding their fishing gear. The small band of anglers are traveling in relative silence, each immersed in their own thoughts, except for the occasional protest from the rear for the front to slow down its brisk pace. Charles merely chuckles and carries on having no sympathy for either young man who, against his strong advice, stayed up half the night.

Charles is in exceptionally good spirits, a direct combination of having turned in early and Renee's unexpected visit during the night. He feels invigorated, in fact better than he has in years; five to be exact. He can no longer remember the precise reason why they had quarreled but he is painfully aware of the resulting consequences that had her forego her wifely duty. Charles, being a proud and stubborn man, had refused to waive the white flag and beg her forgiveness. They have been at a stalemate ever since. Never once over the years has he pressed his suit and demand his rights. Instead he grew resigned to the unsatisfactory state of their marriage. Nor did he take on a mistress, as many other men in his situation might have done because in spite of their near constant bickering, he loves Renee dearly. Remembering happier times, Charles vows to make things right between them again, even if it kills them both.

Jacob is exceptionally bright-eyed and bushy-tailed considering the early hour. He moves with a carefree and exuberant spring in his step, as those who have yet to be weighed down by life's many trials and tribulations do. Excited by the prospect of spending the entire morning fishing, he fantasizes about catching the biggest fish, an exceptional specimen that his father would insist on mounting on the wall. Picking up the pace, he leaves Harry behind and catches up to Edward.

Buoyed by the frequent glances and encouraging smiles Isabella had freely given him while at the dinner table, Edward is riding high. If he had any doubts before, he doesn't anymore; the extraordinary and breathtakingly beautiful Miss Swan is fond of him. To what extent, Edward vows to discover before he leaves. He chuckles upon hearing Michael stumble and swear in the background. It is almost as amusing as when Charles attempted to waken him earlier. Michael had been unwilling to rise until Edward made a point of commenting to their host, loud enough so that he would hear that it was probably for the best. That perhaps his reluctance to join them was so as not to be embarrassed by his poor fishing skills. Almost immediately Michael sprang out of his bed and practically tossed Theo onto the floor in an effort to hurry up and dress.

The next time Michael trips and swears Theo unleashes a hearty laugh as his friend's face almost hits the dirt. But he sobers quickly when Michael casts him a menacing scowl and is reminded of his friend's short temper. He let's out a sigh and hopes that when he finally musters up the courage to court his pretty sister, it doesn't rear its ugly head. For quite some time Theo has admired Eloise from afar but thought it best to wait to make his move until after Michael's marriage. He is certain Mrs. Newton will appreciate his foresight and thoughtfulness in not having to plan two weddings at the same time.

Michael wonders why he isn't in his warm bed instead of stumbling out in the dark to partake in a sport he has no particular interest in but then is reminded that his reason is right smack in front of him. A heady mixture of pride and jealousy convinces him not to let that limey bastard out best him. Edward may have fooled every one else but not him. If he believes for one minute that he is going to allow him to waltz right in and take what belongs to him, he has another thing coming. During dinner the previous evening, Michael noticed the way Edward had been eyeing and ogling his fiancée and at one point he could almost swear Isabella had done much the same. This puzzles him as he has known her practically his entire life and considers her to be a fairly intelligent girl. Surely she wouldn't let herself be fooled by this cad … this unwelcome lothario! A terrifying thought suddenly occurs to him … although Isabella has agreed to marry him; she has yet to proclaim her love. Michael always believed that in time she would but now his confidence has been shaken. And it's all because of that cocky son-of-a-bitch! Michael vows to keep a very close eye on Edward.

~ih~

The minute Eloise and Angela take their seats at the dining room table, Renee nervously glances up and down the hall for any sight of her daughter before quickly closing the French doors behind them. She is most anxious to have a word alone with them before Isabella joins them for breakfast. After all, if her husband chooses to turn traitor by not extricating Mr. Masen from the premises as she asked, she is left no other choice but to come up with an alternate course of action to ensure the man stays away from her daughter. He may have fooled every one else but not her. Renee has observed the way he watches Isabella and has concluded that he is a serious threat to her carefully construed plans. She has spent countless hours working to ensure the best possible future for her daughter to let this man unravel them. But what baffles her is why Isabella has chosen this particular moment to start behaving like a willful and ungrateful child? Perhaps Mr. Masen is to blame.

"Good morning girls." Giving them each a warm smile, Renee takes her usual seat at the table and unfolds her napkin over her lap.

"Good morning Mrs. Swan," Angela and Eloise echo. They give each other a questioning glance before their eyes dart over to the closed doors and back again to their hostess.

"Isabella should be down any minute," Angela nervously offers. "I laced her corset and she was almost done dressing when we left to come down."

"Actually I was hoping we could have a little chat before she joins us." Renee leans forward and speaks in a lowered voice. "I'm sure as Isabella's dearest friends that you must have noticed she has been … out of sorts lately."

Angela nods in agreement. "Come to think of it, she has been acting rather peculiar."

"Yes, she has been on edge," Eloise adds.

Renee reaches for the coffee pot and pours herself a cup. "With the wedding fast approaching, I must say that I've never seen my daughter so happy. But it is not unusual for a bride to be a little apprehensive as well. I behaved much the same way before Charles and I married. I think it might help if you would keep her occupied until we leave for home. After all 'idle hands are the devil's tools'." She glances at them to ensure they are following her before continuing, "Marcus will be coming to the house later this afternoon to finish her portrait but until then, can you think of anything she might enjoy?" Without asking she pours coffee into both of their cups.

Angela brightens remembering how much Isabella enjoys playing parlor games. "She loves 'Round the World with Nelie Bly' and 'Tiddledy-Winks'."

Eloise excitedly adds, "And we could look at pictures in the stereoscope."

Renee clasps her hands together. "Wonderful. That sounds perfect girls. I would appreciate it if we kept this conversation just between us. I'm certain Isabella wouldn't appreciate knowing that we were discussing her odd behavior."

"Yes, of course Mrs. Swan." Angela reaches for the sugar.

"Absolutely," Eloise eyes the platter of pastries. "You have my word, Mrs. Swan."

Before Eloise can select one of the mouth-watering baked goods, Renee places her hand on top of hers. "Oh and one more thing … do not let her out of your sight, under any circumstances."

Before they can respond, the doors open and Isabella enters. It doesn't get past her that their conversation suddenly ends once she arrives. Leaning back in her chair, Renee gives her daughter a warm, welcoming smile. Careful so as not to make eye contact, Eloise and Angela fill their plates and immediately start eating with such vigor one might believe they'd been on the verge of starvation. Isabella frowns, perplexed by their actions. There is little doubt in her mind that her mother is responsible. She returns her mother's warm smile and takes her seat knowing full well that Eloise is incapable of keeping a secret.

"I trust you are feeling better this morning dear," her mother probes. "I won't ask what caused your insolent behavior at the dinner table last evening but I propose that today we start over fresh. I forgive you."

Stunned by her mother's sharp rebuke, Isabella stabs several pancakes from the warm platter and places them on her plate. She shouldn't be surprised. After all it wasn't like her mother to let anything go without having the final say in the matter. Reaching for the maple syrup, she takes notice of her friend's obvious discomfort. Inwardly she is seething at them being unknowingly thrust into the middle of hers and her mother's conflict but suspects that was her intent; a public humiliation so to speak. Unfortunately for Renee, it was about to backfire. What had been brewing deep within Isabella for quite some time comes bubbling to the surface.

"I appreciate your concern for my well-being mother but I assure you that I've never felt so well." She smiles sweetly and shoves a heaping forkful of pancake into her mouth. Knowing her lack of manners will add fuel to the fire she continues to speak while chewing. "And I'm in full agreement about today being a fresh start. So I've decided that from here on out, I am going to follow my dear mother's example and speak my mind, much like you do with father."

Isabella watches the fallout with amusement from her impromptu declaration. Her mother visibly blanches as if she'd been slapped. Angela's eyes are as wide as saucers. Eloise drops her fork in her lap and her face reddens. Choking on a morsel of food, she coughs violently. Isabella springs from her chair and with one-hand lifts her friends arm high in the air and pats her back repeatedly with the other. Once Eloise is no longer in mortal danger, she returns to her chair.

Feeling emboldened and empowered, Isabella continues. "And if Michael doesn't value my thoughts and opinions … well, we aren't exactly married yet, now are we? No longer am I willing to sit on the sidelines and let other's orchestrate and make decisions on my behalf that will affect my life. I am not a child and I refuse to be treated as such. Furthermore, I expect my husband to view me as his equal when making important decisions, not an afterthought."

Angela is the first to regain her voice. "It's far worse than I thought," she mutters.

"Oh poor, dear Isabella has lost her mind!" Eloise cries.

"My salts!" Renee shrieks. Swooning, her hand dramatically rises to her forehead.

~ih~

Lined and evenly spaced in a neat row along the gently sloped embankment, the five men and teenage boy lean back in their wooden Adirondack chairs. Their fishing lines have been cast and floats are skimming on the surface of the water. Each rod is resting in the metal holder beside their chair. Patiently they wait for the telltale bobbing that will alert them to a fish having taken their bait. Conversation has been kept to a bare minimum lest the noise scare away the fish. Not that anyone has been keeping score but with three in his metal pail, Charles has caught the most fish thus far. Edward and Jacob are tied with two a piece and Theo with one. Michael protests when Charles insists that he toss the tiny fish on his hook back into the water.

"That's too bad," Jacob says standing next to Michael and examining the three-inch bass on his line. "Better luck next time."

"Perhaps you might fare better if you were to try the maggots and worms that I've been using instead of the artificial lure on your hook," Edward offers and tilts the bait pail so Michael can better see the squirming live bait. "It seems the fish here aren't fooled," he comments and chuckles softly to himself.

"I'm not touching those disgusting things." Michael snarls and casts his line back into the water.

"Suit yourself," Edward grins, feeling quite pleased with himself.

"Hey, would you mind if I tried your bait?" Theo asks Edward as he begins to reel in his line.

Edward hands Theo his metal pail and shows him how to hook the bait so it stays on. Tossing his line back into the water, Theo places his fishing rod back into the holder and flops back in his chair. Edward catches Michael punch Theo's shoulder. His juvenile behavior doesn't surprise Edward. It only serves to reinforce his belief that Michael is all wrong for Isabella.

When Edward's float furiously bobs up and down in the water, he takes hold of his rod and quickly reels in his line. Jacob stands ready with the net to scoop up whatever is on the other end. When an impressive northern pike emerges on the end of Edward's hook, Charles whistles appreciatively. Measuring three feet in length and weighing a good eight pounds or more, Edward stands beaming at his catch.

Almost immediately Theo's line goes taut and soon he too is holding a respectable five-pound walleye in his hands. Overjoyed in having taken Edward's advice, Theo and Edward take a moment to shake hands and congratulate each other. Notably silent, Michael remains in his chair seething.

"Is there anything you are good at Michael?" Jacob asks hoping to cheer him, although it has the opposite effect.

Remembering his allegiance to his friend, Theo boasts, "Rowing … Michael was captain of the row team our last year at Harvard. Under his guidance, our team won the tournament cup in '92." Theo smiles when remembering the weekend bender that followed.

Edward perks up at this newfound piece of information. "So, you're a Harvard man Michael. That explains quite a bit." He didn't hold a particularly high opinion of the students at that ivy-league institution considering the vast majority were 'trust fund' boys.

"I don't suppose you participated in any extracurricular activities while at Princeton, Edward. I'd wager that with your disadvantaged upbringing, your head never left the books so as to try and keep up with your peers academically." Michael's face is smug.

Edward not missing a beat and unfazed by Michael's jab, quickly replies, "What a coincidence! I too was captain of our row team. In '87 we took the cup away from Harvard." Edward grins. "I'll have you know that I graduated top of my class, maxima cum laude with a 4.0 GPA. In fact my peers often sought me out to help tutor them."

Michael nervously laughs and remains quiet knowing that he barely managed to graduate at all let alone with honors, a direct result of his frequent fraternity shenanigans.

"My best sport is motorboat racing. At summer camp when I was fifteen, I was junior champion at Lake Quassapaug." Michael notes, a little less cocky than before.

"What a splendid accomplishment," Edward says with mock sincerity. "I've done a little racing myself."

Jacob springs from his chair and excitedly squeals, "I have a great idea! We have several motorboats here on the island. Why don't you two race?"

Up until this point Charles has kept silent but having previously seen first hand Edward's level of skill when it comes to boating, feels the need to step in on behalf of his future son-in-law.

"I'm not certain that is a good idea son." Charles interjects.

"Why not?" Jacob whines, unable to mask his disappointed.

Michael salivates at the thought of besting Edward and is hell-bent on challenging him. "It's simple Jacob. Your father doesn't want his guest embarrassed by my crossing the finish line first."

Charles lets out a hearty laugh. He looks over at Edward who shrugs. "Alright then, since your incessant banter has caused the fish to up and leave, let's head to the boat house and have ourselves a match race."

"And may the best man win," Michael adds, self-confident in securing what he believes will be an easy win. He imagines Isabella fawning over him at the dinner table when he boasts of his victory.

Edward feels a twinge of guilt when shaking Michael's hand and replies, "I'm certain that he will."

~ih~

By late morning, Isabella had had enough of the board games and looking at the pretty pictures in the stereoscope. It was turning out to be a beautiful warm spring day and she'd been holed up in the library for the past three hours with Angela and Eloise. Each time she mentioned needing some time alone, her friends would whip out another game. Truth be told, she longed to go outside by herself and perhaps by chance run into Edward. Last night she made up her mind that she was going to find a way to be alone with him and confide the contents of her heart. And if she made a fool of herself, so be it. It was unlikely she would ever see the man again as a single woman after he left the island. The thought of remaining silent and living the rest of her life with regret was worse than any embarrassment she may feel, even if he didn't return her sentiments.

Formulating a plan to escape her friends, she rises from her chair, stretches her arms wide and lets out a yawn. "I'll be but a minute; I need a private moment in the powder room." But before she can turn the doorknob, Eloise is glued to her side.

"I'll go with you," she eagerly offers much to Isabella's dismay and disbelief.

Turning around, Isabella places both her hands on Eloise's shoulders and shoves her back towards the table. Pushing her back down in the chair, she moves her face within an inch of Eloise's.

"My mother asked you to keep an eye on me, didn't she?" Isabella accuses. Feeling guilty, Eloise turns away from her friend's piercing gaze.

"Why in heavens would she do that?" Angela shrugs non-committal letting out a shrill laugh.

"Start talking Eloise or so help me …" Isabella threatens knowing her friend's weakness.

When Eloise stubbornly refuses to divulge and purses her lips together tight, Isabella makes good on her implied threat. Her fingers dart underneath Eloise's armpits and she begins a relentless assault by tickling her repeatedly.

"Stop … stop … oh no please!" Eloise cries between peels of laughter.

Isabella doesn't let up and soon there are tears streaming down Eloise's face.

"Alright! Alright, I'll talk …" Taking a few seconds to compose herself, she looks over at Angela who is shaking her head, arms folded across her chest.

"Your mother asked that we keep you busy as you haven't been yourself lately and to help keep your mind off of marrying my brother," she blurts in one breath. "I can sympathize. I wouldn't want to think about that either."

"Did she now?" Isabella smirks. She takes another minute to process this information. "Is that all?"

Eloise emphatically nods.

"Well I believe we can manage to work around my mother's orders. Come let us go outside. It's far too nice to be stuck in here." With their heads hung low, she leads them out of the library.

Following the cobblestone path to the lighthouse, Isabella hears the sound of the engines. Picking up the pace, Angela and Eloise struggle to keep up with her. Arriving at her destination Isabella scans the water. From out in the distance she makes out two boats fast approaching in their direction.

Her brother's voice coming from behind startles her. "Good, I'm glad you three are here," he says, almost out of breath. In his hand he holds a small white flag. "This way there will be witnesses to attest as to who crosses the finish line first."

"Who is racing?" Angela excitedly asks.

"Who else? Edward and Michael," Jacob huffs as if it should be obvious. "Michael challenged Edward to a race only he doesn't know that Edward holds many racing records at the New York Yacht Club. He's some sort of legend."

"How do we know which boat is whose?" Eloise inquires.

"Edward's is the one with the red banner streaming out the tail end and Michael's is the green one." Jacob hurriedly explains. "Follow me."

Jacob runs out to the short pier with the girls close behind. The boats have picked up speed and are getting closer with each passing second. At first it's hard to make out who is in the lead.

Angela cries out, loud enough for all to hear. "Come on Michael! You can do it!"

"Edward! You're almost there … Go, Go, Go!" Isabella screams from the top of her lungs.

As they round the bend for the finish line, Michael takes the turn a little too sharp and almost loses control of his boat. As he struggles to straighten the wheel and not overturn, the red banner breezes past leaving Michael to smell Edward's fumes.

As Jacob lowers the white flag and Edward crosses the finish all three simultaneously turn to stare in horrified disbelief at Isabella's major faux pas.

~ih~

After securing his motorboat inside the boathouse, Edward decides to lend Michael a hand and to thank him for a challenging race. Outside Theo is helping Charles and Harry clean the fish they caught so the cook can fry them them up for dinner. Michael is openly glaring at Edward as he approaches with his hand outstretched.

"Why didn't you tell me what a skilled and experienced boatman you are? Is it your intention to show me up and humiliate me every chance you can to try and convince everyone how perfect you are?" Michael spits. "Tell me, is that how you plan to steal away my fiancé Mr. Masen?"

Edward winces, as there is a thread of truth to his words. Had their roles been reversed, wouldn't he be outraged by his behavior? For one brief second he feels shame and remorse. That is until Michael takes him by surprise and hits his jaw hard with his fist. Edward stumbles to the ground loudly knocking over several metal pails as he falls.

His fists tightly clenched and in front of him, Michael yells loudly, "Get up rotter! We're going to settle this right here, right now!"

Gingerly Edward cups the side of his face. It stings and is already swelling. Before he can get back on his feet, Charles, Harry and Theo come running. Quickly assessing the situation, Theo grabs hold of one arm and Harry the other and together they drag Michael, who is trembling with rage back outside.

Charles lends Edward a hand up. "Are you all right?"

Edward nods, rubbing his cheek. "Yes, I'm fine. I probably deserved that."

"No, you most certainly did not," Charles reassures him. "I wasn't aware that Michael has such a foul temper."

Dinner is awkward and strained at best. It seems that everyone is consumed in his or her own thoughts. Other than asking for an item to be passed at the table, there is little conversation. Wearing a hurt expression, Renee refuses to turn her head in her daughter's direction. Angela and Eloise won't look at Isabella either but for different reasons. Angela is appalled by Isabella's lack of loyalty towards the man she herself pines for while Eloise is on the verge of tears, afraid it might mean she and Isabella will not be sisters after all. Theo worries as to why Eloise is distraught and longs to comfort her. Jacob is thoroughly confused by his sister's outburst and support of Edward during the race. Charles, who is seated along side his daughter, believes Renee is upset with him for pressing her into having relations with him. Michael is sullen, barely touching the food on his plate. This leaves Edward and Isabella who are oblivious to everyone else present, only having eyes for one another.

"Midnight … greenhouse," Edward whispers ever so softly as he bends down to retrieve Isabella's napkin that had fallen on the floor. He then excuses himself from the table and retires for the night.

Arriving fifteen minutes early, Edward nervously paces back and forth inside the dark glass structure. He holds his unlit lantern by his side. At the sound of the door opening and footsteps fast approaching, he quickly flicks on the light.

"Isabella?" Edward calls out. He breathes a sigh of relief upon hearing her sweet voice.

"Edward?" Isabella replies.

In three short strides he is at her side. Turning the lantern flame on low, he places it down on the counter. The soft glow illuminates on her face giving Edward pause. She is so beautiful and he is reminded of the first time he laid his eyes on her angelic face having wondered if she was real or not. Giving him a shy smile he responds in kind.

Before speaking, Edward swallows and takes a deep breath. "I needed to see you tonight … to confess that I love you Isabella. I realize that we don't know each other well but in my heart I feel as if I've always known you. I've been searching for you for what feels like forever …"

"Edward …" she whispers softly.

"My dear … please let me finish while I still have the nerve. You are betrothed to another and if you truly love him, I will step aside and bother you no more but if you do not, if you have the slightest regard or affection for me, I implore you … no, I beg you … do not marry him and make a mistake that we'll both regret for the rest of our lives."

Isabella reaches up and caresses his slightly swollen cheek with the palm of her hand, feeling their strong connection. "I came here tonight to confess much the same, Edward. I hadn't a clue what love was until I met you and I've not been able to think of much else since. From the depths of my heart and soul, I love you and I know with certainty that I always will."

Closing his eyes, Edward says a brief prayer of thanks to the Almighty before reaching for her. Wrapping his arms around her tiny waist, he pulls her close. Breathing in the sweet fragrance of her hair, he feels the pounding of her heart that matches his own.

He is home

She is home.

Together, in each other's arms, they are home and there is no turning back.

Swept up in their magical moment, neither one is aware of the set of eyes having witnessed their declarations of love to one other, standing inside the doorway.

* * *

**A/N: Quite the pissing contest Michael and Edward had going on. And I'm so proud of Isabella that I could burst. Are you feeling the slightest bit sorry for Michael?**

**Any thoughts as to who is watching them? **

**Only one more chapter to go before I hit complete and put this story to rest. Remember, it was only supposed to be a one-shot story. **


	7. IH: Visions from the Past Part VI

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: ****Stephanie Meyers owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: As what often happens when I get 'lost' inside a story, I tend to get a little long-winded. So rather than end things with one long chapter, I've decided to split it in two. I hope you aren't too disappointed. **

**Shout of thanks to my incredible Beta T, LovinRob!**

* * *

**Illuminating Hope**

Voices from the Past Part VI

Lost in each other's arms and oblivious to everything else, neither Edward nor Isabella take notice of the young man who steps out of night's darkness and into the green house. From the shadows he observes the woman he loves clinging tightly to another man. The scene unfolding before him has a surreal quality to it and for an instant he imagines that he must still be in his bed and this is nothing but a bad dream. But after pinching himself, the physical pain registers and he comes to realize that this is indeed quite real.

Having witnessed and heard every single word spoken between his fiancé and that … person, Michael braces himself for the avalanche of mental anguish and heartache that is certain to follow. He expects it will lasso and pull him down deep into the abyss of sorrow and despair; a place where regret and broken hearts reside side-by-side. But at this particular moment, he feels blissfully numb. He wonders if he is being shielded from the pain by some sort of built-in, self-defense mechanism inside his head or if perhaps it is due to the many shots of single malt scotch he downed before catching sight of Isabella opening the front door.

Just when it appears the happy couple are about to seal their declaration of love and mutual adoration with a tender kiss, it happens … the green-eyed monster known as jealously, rears its ugly head while his companion, unbridled anger, flares and consumes him whole. Both Edward and Isabella have deceived and played him for a fool. As Michael's feet shuffle forward making his presence known, he slowly begins to clap. Startled, Isabella gasps and pulls away from her lover.

"Bravo! Well done." There is a sharp edge of sarcasm to Michael's voice. "Have I arrived too soon? Perhaps I should step back out and return in say … five minutes when you two are humping like dogs in heat."

"Mind your tongue," Edward growls.

Michael glares at him with disgust. "Shut up!"

"Michael … it's not …" Unable to find the right words to explain, Isabella's hand flies up to her mouth.

"Please Isabella, don't add insult to injury. I'm not daft. Of course this is exactly what it looks like!" Michael raises his voice and moves a few steps closer towards her.

In an effort to protect the woman he loves, who stands trembling, Edward moves to her front, essentially blocking Michael from her path.

"You will not talk to her in that manner. It is I, who you should be directing your anger towards. It is I, who asked that she meet me here tonight. It is I, who has pursued her."

"She is not blameless," Michael says bitterly and looks around Edward to eye his fiancé. "You have betrayed me Isabella. How could you do this to me?"

"Michael, I'm sorry …" Tears are running down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. You do not deserve this."

"You're damn right I don't," he snaps. "Isabella, you and I need to work this out … alone … in private."

If looks could kill, Edward would be six feet under. Edward turns around and tenderly cups Isabella's cheek with the palm of his hand.

"Please go back to the house, dear. Michael and I are going to discuss this calmly, rationally and like gentlemen."

From the angry expression on Michael's face, she highly doubts there will be much talking. Panicked by the thought of Edward being hurt, Isabella wraps her arms around his waist.

"I won't leave you!" she cries and presses her face against his chest.

The pain that Michael has been waiting for finally arrives. Scrunching his eyes tightly, his fingers squeeze his temples in an effort to block it. Believing the numbness was far preferable than the anguish that is threatening to siege him, he struggles to contain his tears. He is determined not to give either one of them the satisfaction of seeing him break down.

"I loved you Isabella," he murmurs, "Why him and not me?"

"I'm sorry …"she sniffles.

"Stop saying that!" he cries. There is a pregnant pause before he is able to continue. "I've had you pegged from the start Masen so I don't believe that I'll waste my breath talking to the likes of you."

Michael's hands are fisted at his sides and it is taking every ounce of what little self-control he possesses not to lunge at Edward and beat him to a bloody pulp.

"Tell me, what honorable man covets and shamelessly pursues that which clearly belongs to another man?"

"I am not a possession! I belong to no one!" Isabella snaps. She is outraged by Michael's words but they only serve to confirm that she has made the right decision. "That is precisely why it never would have worked between us."

"You cannot possibly know that with absolute certainty." His tone softens. "You and I share a long history, Isabella and I would have done my best to make you happy."

Isabella touches Edward's shoulder. "I'd like a few minutes alone with Michael." Her eyes silently plead for his understanding.

Edward hesitates, unsure whether he can trust Michael alone with Isabella in his present distressed condition. He'd never forgive himself if she were hurt in any way, be it physical or emotional on account of him.

"Trust me, all will be fine. Michael will behave himself," she says with confidence hoping to reassure Edward's unspoken fears.

Before stepping aside and honoring her wishes, Edward possessively runs his hand down the length of her arm and casts Michael a warning. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

Once Edward closes the door behind him, Michael releases an audible sigh and noticeably relaxes. He moves a few steps closer towards her so there is less than a yard between them.

With conviction he reiterates his previous statement. "I would have made you happy. Let me rephrase that … I know I can make you happy Isabella, if only you would let me into your heart."

Slowly, she shakes her head. "I've no doubt that we both would have tried our best but ultimately we would have failed miserably. I know this because not only do I long to be cherished and loved but also appreciated for who I am. I have come to understand that I cannot be with someone who does not treat me with respect, as his equal. I must be able to freely speak and have my opinions valued. I will not be a silent partner."

She wipes away her tears that are freely falling. "We have more differences than similarities and while I am terribly fond of you Michael, I do not love you. And I am truly sorry that I have allowed things to progress to this point when deep down I always knew it."

"How can you be so sure about … him?" He spits, unable to speak Edward's name out loud. "You could be wrong about him."

"I'm not," she whispers and removes her engagement ring from her finger. "Please release me from my promise."

Michael raises his hand in protest.

"I pray that someday you will find the one who was meant for you and who will love you without any reservation."

Reaching for his hand, she places the exquisite ring into his palm and wraps both her hands around his, closing his fingers shut.

His voice chokes with emotion. "I will always … love you." The door reopens when Michael pulls her into his arms. Kissing her forehead, he whispers, "I release you. Be happy."

Turning on his heels, Michael doesn't utter another word but walks directly past Edward with his head held high and out of Isabella's life.

~ih~

It is still dark out when Isabella first stirs. Her eyelids flutter open and she inhales sharply at seeing the hundreds of thousands of tiny stars shining bright in the heavens above through the glass panels of the greenhouse. Awed by their celestial beauty, she takes pause to contemplate her insignificance in the grand scheme of it all. She ponders whether one's course is predestined from birth or if it is merely a series of choices and coincidence. The romantic in her would like to believe it is the former and that she and Edward were always 'meant to be' … 'written in the stars', so to speak. A smile slowly spreads as she remembers the last several hours and how quickly and irrevocably her life has been altered. Inherently she knows there can be no turning back from the course she has set on. Interpreting it as a sign of affirmation, she watches as a star suddenly shoots across the darkened canvas, eclipsing all others in its wake.

Jarred from the seriousness of her thoughts, she is brought back to Earth by the warmth of Edward's breath tickling the side of her throat. Contentment fills her mind, body and spirit as she lies beside him with his strong arm holding her close. Lifting her hand to his handsome face, she gently traces a finger along the edge of his prominent jaw before tenderly stroking his facial scruff and savoring its feel. She wishes they could stay locked in this moment forever, blissfully happy, just the two of them.

Awakened by her soft touch, Edward gazes warmly at the woman who has set his heart soaring and stoked the burning embers of passion deep within, the woman he didn't know existed until recently, the woman he desperately desires and fiercely loves. He is consumed by a dizzying happiness upon seeing his feelings mirrored in her eyes.

Sporting his boyish smile, he grins. "I could get used to this," he murmurs. "Holding you close each night and waking up beside you every morning …" He nuzzles the nape of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

Isabella blushes crimson, her heart pounding. "I certainly hope it is your intention to make an honest woman of me, seeing as my reputation is essentially ruined."

He raises his brow. "We haven't done anything to be ashamed of … yet. I thought it best to let you lie in a bit after having stayed up most of the night … talking."

"Do you really think anyone will make that distinction?" She adjusts her position turning so her back is to his front. "I can hear my former teacher, Miss Julliard now … 'it is the appearance of impropriety that will ruin you just as surely as the act itself'."

"Well in that case maybe I should be thorough about it and claim your virtue here and now …" He slithers his arm over her side and plants a kiss on the back of her neck. Upon hearing her soft moan, he chuckles softly.

"Do you find me amusing?" she asks, puzzled. Had she done something wrong?

"Can't you see the irony?" he jests. "It seems we have gone about things backwards. I have yet to kiss you proper and here we are … lying in each other's arms … on bags of mulch no less."

"Then maybe you should," she teases brushing closer to him. Suddenly she stills. Something firm is pressing against her lower back.

"Trust me, Isabella, now is not the time for kissing," he swallows, praying for his prominent member to subside. "And to answer your earlier inquiry, I fully intend to make an honest woman of you. How long must we court before I can ask your father for your hand?"

"Why must we wait at all? As you pointed out, we haven't exactly been conventional," she whispers. "We both know what we want. I say sooner rather than later."

Energized with a renewed sense of purpose, Edward releases his hold of her and slowly rises to his feet. "Come … walk with me, love."

Knowing that she will follow him to the ends of the earth and back again, without hesitation she places her hand in his.

~ih~

Seated outside beneath the red and white striped canopy, Charles sips on his strong black coffee and enjoys what he is certain will be the last few moments of absolute peace and tranquility that he will have for quite some time. The day promises to be another sunny and unseasonable warm one. The deep crystal blue waters are beckoning him to come before Renee can find him. He shudders imagining the explosion that is sure to follow once she does. Even though the hour is early, he is already drained from having dealt with the aftermath of a most unpleasant situation. A situation he knew was coming.

Charles often proclaimed that he didn't want to know or involve himself with the drama associated with his family members and for the most part that was true. He left Renee in charge of handling the trivial things but when it came to important matters, it was a different story. From the sidelines Charles pulled strings, oftentimes with his wife unaware of his involvement. Such was the case with his daughter and Edward. Not only was Charles fully aware of their budding romance, he had fervently prayed it would come to fruition.

From the moment Charles sought out Edward Anthony Masen, he was impressed with the man. At first it was simply admiration for his uncanny business instincts but over the past year, as they became better acquainted and he learned of his many fine qualities, a friendship as well as an idea formed in the back of Charles mind. Why not arrange for Edward to casually meet his equally bright, spirited and beautiful daughter to see if they were as compatible as he suspected and let nature take its rightful course?

The fact that Isabella was already betrothed to another was of little consequence to Charles. The way he saw it, he would much rather right a wrong now than have his daughter suffer later for her mother's well intentioned but ill-contrived matchmaking. Although Michael Newton came from a well-respected family, Charles harbored lingering doubts as to his suitability as a husband as well as questionable flaws in his character. He witnessed first hand Michael's penchant for strong drink that often resulted in frequent mood swings. Michael's own father once confessed his doubts to Charles as to whether his son would one day take over their family business. But unfortunately, Renee had turned a blind-eye to Michael's shortcomings and focused solely on his family's wealth and good name. Charles wished his wife had been more concerned that he be Isabella's 'perfect match' rather than her 'perfect catch'. They wouldn't be in the situation they were in now if she had. Of course he didn't expect that Renee would see it quite that way.

"There you are Charles," Renee says sweetly and gives him a genuine smile. "What an absolutely glorious morning." Taking the seat beside him, she pours herself a cup of coffee.

Charles is taken back by her unusually good mood especially after her melancholy the previous evening. Normally he would make an off-handed comment and she would respond by glaring at him but not today. Today he wisely decides to keep his mouth shut. He passes her the sugar and cream and wonders what could possibly be responsible for its dramatic turnabout.

"Why yes dear, it is," he responds and watches her carefully as she fixes her coffee.

Renee scrunches her face after taking a sip. "This is very strong. Did you make it?" She adds another teaspoon of sugar and more cream.

"Yes, nice and strong. That's how I like it." He chuckles.

"I remember." Again she smiles.

Bringing her cup back up to her lips, Renee takes another sip. This time finding it more suitable to her liking, she places the cup on the saucer. She sighs and gazes out at the serene waters of the Saint Lawrence River.

"Did I hear a motorboat earlier?" She off-handedly asks.

Uncomfortably shifting in his chair, Charles clears his throat. "Why yes, I believe you did."

"It's too quiet. Where is everyone this morning?" Placing a warm croissant on her plate, she waits for his response. When he doesn't answer, her head whips up. She notices his troubled expression. "What is it Charles? What is wrong? Tell me!"

Charles eyes dart over to the cobblestone path. Isabella and Edward are leisurely strolling, arm in arm, and heading in their direction. There is no mistaking his daughter's newfound happiness. It is written plainly on her glowing face and Edward's as well. This pleases him immensely and he takes a moment to congratulate himself before putting on his mask in an attempt to hide his true sentiments from Renee.

Following her husband's gaze, Renee's response is very different from that of her husbands. She appears to be stricken and her hand flies to her mouth at the vision.

"Where's Michael?" she gasps.

Charles takes a deep breath. "Michael is gone Renee. Harry has taken him and Theo as well as Angela and Eloise back to the mainland. They are returning home."

He places his hand over his wife's before continuing and speaks to her in a soft, calm voice. "The wedding has been called off and rightly so. You cannot expect Isabella to stand before God and make sacred vows to Michael when she cares for another. Open your eyes Renee. Shouldn't our daughter's happiness be your foremost concern? Edward is a fine man. Far better than the one you would have yoked her with.

Renee's face grotesquely contorts and she recoils, pulling her hand away from her husbands. Vehemently shaking her head, she hisses, "I hope you are satisfied Charles. Our good family name will be dragged through the mud and tarnished by what is sure to be a horrendous scandal. How will I ever show my face again?"

Angered by his wife's pettiness, he retorts in a calm but firm voice, "For once in your life Renee, shut the hell up. You will control yourself and hold your tongue in front of our daughter and her new beau or I swear I'll … I'll…"

"You'll do what?" she glares, challenging him.

Charles isn't about to back down, not with his back against the wall. "I promise you that there will be an even greater scandal of epic proportions when I pack my bags and leave you," he says calling her bluff.

"You wouldn't!" she cries in disbelief.

"Don't try me," he whispers as Isabella and Edward approach.

Isabella pauses when noticing both her parents seated at the outdoor table. She clutches Edward's arm tighter when imagining the many horrible things her mother might say or do and instead turns her attention to her father. How will he react to what she believes is wonderful news? Will he be their ally or foe? More importantly, will he give them their blessing when Edward asks to speak with him? Sensing her unease, Edward places his hand over hers and gives a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I love you," he whispers.

Those three little words, spoken with such depth of feeling and conviction, give Isabella the much-needed courage to continue moving forward.

"Good morning Charles, Mrs. Swan." Edward cheerfully greets his host and hostess when they reach their table, "Beautiful day."

"Good morning mother, father," Isabella says meekly, partially hiding behind Edward as if he was a shield.

"Yes, it most certainly is," Charles cheerfully replies and gestures for them to take a seat.

All three turn to Renee waiting for her to say something, anything. Inwardly Renee is furious at the recent turn of events but knowing her husband has never been one to make idle threats, digs down deep, drawing on her many years of experience and plants a small forced smile on her lips.

"Yes, do join us," she says through clenched teeth. "My, what lovely flowers."

"We picked them especially for you." Edward flashes a heart-stopping smile, turning on the charm.

Before handing Renee the assortment of flowers in his hand, he removes a pink primrose and tucks it carefully behind Isabella's ear.

"Isabella was kind enough to show me your fragrant flower garden, Mrs. Swan. I cannot recall when I've seen anything quite so beautiful, so exquisite." His eyes are focused solely on Isabella.

"It was my pleasure, Edward."

Isabella blushes and a warm, tingling sensation radiates throughout her entire body. She reaches for the coffee pot but Edward is closest and intercepts.

"May I pour you a cup, dear?" he asks Isabella, fully aware of the liberty he has taken by using a term of endearment to address her.

"Yes, thank you." Isabella watches as he performs this simple task and longs to be back in his strong arms.

"Mrs. Swan? May I refresh your cup?" he asks expectantly, still holding the pot.

"Oh my! Aren't you thoughtful Mr. Masen? Why yes, please."

Impressed by Edward's impeccable manners, Renee casts her eyes on him. It's as if she is seeing him for the first time and in spite of her simmering anger towards her husband, she gives Edward an authentic smile.

* * *

**A/N: ****I tend to believe Edward and Isabella were destined to be together.**

**Poor Michael. He really never stood a chance now did he? But I believe it is far better that he discover it now than to live a life without truly being loved. **

**How about Charles and Renee and the little game they are playing with each other? It seems this time he has captured her queen … checkmate. **

**I know I said this before but this time I mean it … one more chapter. **


	8. IH: Visions from the Past Part VII

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: ****Stephanie Meyers owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: I swear this is it. The final outtake of what was supposed to be a ONE SHOT story! Hey, what can I say? Edward and Isabella wouldn't stop shouting in my ear until I wrote it all down. Yeah, I hear voices. So what?**

**My BetaT, LovinRob deserves some sort of major award. Don't know what I'd do without you, my sweet h00r!**

* * *

**Illuminating Hope**

Voices from the Past Part VII

August 1893

_Clip clop … Clip clop … Clip clop … Clip clop _

Seated in the back of their carriage, Isabella concentrates on the sound of the horses' hooves striking the pavement. With each step they take, she is that much closer to arriving at her new home. Still clothed in her white wedding dress with delicate lace overlay and short puffed sleeves, she gazes up adoringly at her new husband. Edward is resplendent in his formal dark tailcoat and trousers, white bow tie and winged collar shirt. Never has he been as handsome as he is sitting beside her. That he is now hers hardly seems real. Reaching for her hand, he gives a gentle squeeze. His thumb massaging each one of her fingers fills her with equal parts exhilaration and apprehension. She is thankful the cover of darkness masks her near constant blush.

"It was such a beautiful ceremony, small yet intimate," she says wistfully, recalling the expression of love and devotion reflected on Edward's solemn face as he spoke his vow to her.

Edward chuckles, "If you consider two hundred guests 'small and intimate'. No matter though, there might have been ten thousand present for all I knew. The only one I saw was my beautiful and much beloved wife."

Isabella reaches in her clutch purse for her handkerchief. "You've made me cry again." She dabs the corner of her eyes. "And considering that initially there were over five hundred on mother's guest list, yes I do."

"I told you there was no need to worry, didn't I?" He pulls her closer to his side.

"Mother truly outdid herself. The wedding at St. Patrick's Cathedral and the dinner reception at the Waldorf was like something out of a fairy tale." She sighs. "Although I am still amazed how quickly she came around after you proposed to me on the island after I had broken off my engagement. I thought she would never speak to me again but instead she threw all her effort into planning our wedding. It seems that mother wasn't immune to your many charms after all, Mr. Masen." She places a chaste kiss his cheek.

Edward gently cups her face and lowers his mouth to hers. As his lips brush hers he marvels at their soft fullness. It is with great difficulty that he pulls back but knowing that soon he'll be able to kiss her without restraint gives him the strength to do so. Sitting back, he watches with amused satisfaction when she remains frozen in place waiting for him to kiss her again. Tracing his fingertip over her bottom lip, he tries to remember what they had been discussing before he was sidetracked.

"For whatever her reasons, I'm grateful to your mother and fully intend on being the best husband and son-in-law that I possibly can." His gaze falls outside the moving carriage. "I am truly sorry that you had to lose your friends because of me. They should have been with you today."

"Don't be," Isabella reassures him. "All is not lost. Yesterday I received a very touching letter from Eloise sending us her best wishes and promising to stay in touch. She mentioned Angela has been spending a great deal of time consoling her brother and that she wouldn't be surprised if they were engaged by Christmas. Then she went on to say that she may be as well … Theo has been courting her. I am very happy for her."

Silence echoes when the carriage comes to a stop in front of a tall brownstone building. Edward springs from his seat and before the driver can open Isabella's door, he scoops her into his arms with a grin plastered on his face.

"We're home Mrs. Masen," he whispers.

"Please don't tell me you are planning on carrying me all the way up to your penthouse?" she admonishes, tilting her head up and silently counting the number of floors."

"Our penthouse and yes, that is precisely what I intend to do. It is all part of my many duties as your husband to carry my bride over the threshold." Repositioning his arm underneath her knees, he takes a better hold of her. "Heaven forbid, we wouldn't want to break with tradition." He winks.

"Congratulations Mr. Masen, Mrs. Masen," the doorman greets them warmly as he opens the door wide. "Here, let me order the elevator for you."

"Thank you Wilson," Edward replies and shrugs innocently at Isabella who is smirking at him as he walks across the marble tiled floor. "I didn't say how I planned on carrying you up, now did I?"

Playfully she swats his arm as the elevator opens and he steps inside. As it slowly rises, so does Isabella's level of apprehension. They have moved swiftly towards this moment since she first laid eyes on Edward. While she is confident that she is ready to assume her role as his wife, there is one as yet unknown aspect that has her worried. Brushing aside her self-doubt, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she reopens them, they are inside the circular foyer of Edward's … of their impressive home.

"Do you plan on putting me down anytime soon?" Her lips brush Edward's ear. If truth be told she is quite content to remain where she is.

"I thought I might give you the grand tour first," he murmurs softly and skims her throat with his mouth.

Fanning the simmering flames, Isabella begins to run her fingers through the small hairs on the back of his neck. Emitting a low growl, his fingers spread and hold her head firmly in place as he swoops down and consumes her mouth whole. His expert tongue gently parts her lips and darts within. Her whimpering moans encourage him. Methodically he twirls and strokes his tongue around hers, exploring and savoring her sweet taste. His breathing is harsh as he feels his desire growing expeditiously. Taking pause through dark, hooded eyes, he silently seeks her consent before continuing down this path. When she nods he whisks her through the hallway to the last door on the right, his bedroom.

"The tour can wait," he says, his voice heated. "I, on the other hand, cannot. Let us retire for the night."

Carefully he lowers her onto the edge of the bed and takes a step back. Never taking his eyes off of her, he removes his jacket and unceremoniously tosses it onto a nearby chair. Loosening his bow tie, he then unbuttons his shirt.

"May I unlace your dress," Edward asks.

Her eyes widen and blink rapidly. "Yes," Isabella whispers, her breathing accelerated. She shifts position so he can better reach her back.

Starting at the nape of her neck, Edward deftly moves his fingers, loosening the delicate fabric as he works his way down. With his hand resting on her lower back, he removes the strategically placed hair combs that have held her upswept hair in place and watches as her shiny, chestnut brown hair cascades past her shoulders and touches the duvet.

"Your hair is like silk. I'd like to brush it later," he says tenderly while running his hand down its length. "If you require a private moment, the bathroom is over there." He points towards a door on the opposite side of the room.

"I do, thank you," Isabella blushes, suddenly feeling self-conscious and shy.

Standing with her hands resting on his shoulders, she shimmies out of her wedding dress. As it falls to the floor, a shiver passes through her at their close proximity. Edward gasps when her white bustier and matching panties, garter belt and silk stockings are revealed. Extending his hand, he runs a finger along the thin fabric covering her upper thigh.

"Hurry back, Mrs. Masen."

Darting into the bedroom, Isabella closes the door before allowing her growing panic to consume her. With her back against the door, she slowly slides to the floor, draws her arms up over her knees and begins to hyperventilate. Her mother's words echo in her mind.

_"In general, men are … how do I put this delicately? They have inherent primitive needs. Your husband will have … certain expectations of you in the bedroom when he chooses to exercise his … rights. My advice to you when he does is to lie very still and close your eyes. Try and think of something pleasant while he climbs on top of you. If you are lucky, it won't last but a minute or two … the first time is generally the most painful. But unfortunately it is your wifely duty and there is no other way to conceive a child."_

"Shut up!" She mouths.

Edward spends the next several minutes lighting candles around his room and removes the remainder of his clothing. Completely exposed, he pulls the duvet to the edge of the bed before sliding underneath the cool, freshly laundered sheets and patiently waits for his bride to join him. Resting his head back on the pillow, he closes his eyes and takes several deep-cleansing breaths to calm himself. While he is no innocent, this will be his first time with someone he loves. He smiles, thankful for the brothel in Paris and to sweet Danielle who taught him the many ways in which to pleasure a woman. He reminds himself that he will need to be patient and above all gentle, as his Isabella is pure and untouched.

The bathroom door opens and Edward watches, hypnotized as his beautiful bride crosses the room with her eyes cast down. She has removed her garter and stockings but her bustier and panties remain underneath a bath towel. Approaching the opposite side of the bed, she drops the towel and quickly darts underneath the covers. Keeping to her side of the bed, she pulls the sheet up to her chin and with a pained expression, tightly shuts her eyes.

"Isabella?" he questions her with growing concern. "What is wrong my love?"

Closing the gap between them, he wraps his arm around her waist. Nuzzling her hair with his nose, he inhales and sighs. It hasn't gotten past him that she has turned as rigid as an ironing board when only minutes ago she had been quite affectionate.

"Nothing, really I'm fine," she murmurs and tenses. "You can go ahead now. I'm ready."

Amused and slightly baffled by her behavior, he chuckles, "What exactly do you think I'm going to do?"

"Exercise your rights as my husband," she says in one quick breath.

Her words cause Edward to howl with laughter. "Oh my sweet Isabella … yes, I'd like that very much but I want you to want it as well. I promise you will enjoy our lovemaking, so much so that you may never want to leave our bed."

"But mother says …"

Edward interrupts and gently rebukes, "Please forget about your mother. Don't you trust me?"

"Implicitly," she whispers. "But … she implied that, as a man, you would enjoy it and that I wouldn't. She also said it would be painful."

"Isabella, do you honestly believe that I would do anything to harm you in any way?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and studying her face. Hoping to assuage her fears he strokes her forehead and whispers sweetly, "I love you very much … more so than my own life."

Edward briefly wonders if this is how his mother-in-law truly feels about marital relations or if she was hoping to plant a wedge between them. His sympathy goes out to Charles if it is the former but quickly dismisses the latter. Hadn't he done everything he could think of to win Mrs. Swan's approval the past couple of months? Flowers… chocolates… dinners… theatre tickets in the city, even an evening cruise on his yacht along the Long Island Sound. Sometimes it almost seemed as if he had been courting her. But as she noticeably softened towards him, he was confident his efforts had paid off, either that or she was quite the actress. Regardless, at their dinner reception she appeared to be exuberant and genuinely sincere when leading him by the arm and introducing him to everyone in the room as her 'highly esteemed and dear son-in-law'.

"No, of course not darling, I'm being silly." Isabella chastises herself for implying she believed otherwise. "I apologize, Edward." She takes a deep breath and exhales, willing her body to relax.

"No apologizes are necessary my love. I'm going to pleasure you in ways you cannot even begin to imagine," he murmurs salaciously and lowers the bed covers off of their bodies.

"May I remove your bustier?" When she shyly nods her consent, his fingers expertly unfasten and pry it off before tossing it to the floor. "You are so very beautiful," he says, staring appreciatively at her bosom.

Skimming his hand over her smooth skin, he traces the outline of her breast before gently cupping and massaging, first one and then the other. He marvels at how they fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. Ever so slowly, he runs his index finger around the perimeter of her areola several times before moving inward and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over her nipple.

"Tell me, does that hurt?" he asks, a trace smile on his lips and ceases his ministrations.

"Hmm… no, Edward… please," she pants; unsure as to what she is asking of him.

When he begins tweaking and twisting her nipples into hard, pointed peaks, a low moan escapes the back of Isabella's throat. Reflexively, she places her hand on top of his bare shoulder beckoning him closer. Whatever he is awakening deep within her, she prays for it to continue. To what conclusion, she knows not. She only knows that the feeling is electrifying, it's like nothing she has ever experienced before and it runs a straight path direct to her groin. Edward continues and his mouth latches onto her hardened nipple. Slowly he suckles and tugs gently with his teeth further escalating the sweet sensation tightening inside her core.

"Shall I continue?" He playfully inquires, looking down at her with equal parts awe and wonder.

"Yes … oh yes," she breathes.

Without hesitation he stokes the fire by placing his lips on her eager mouth. His soft tongue encourages and coaxes entry, dancing together with hers. Tender kisses rapidly turn into a frenzied plea leaving them both, intoxicated and desirous of more. With one hand affixed to her breast, the other trails down her belly until arriving at her soft mound. With his hand positioned at the apex of her womanhood, her legs noticeably stiffen.

"It's alright love," he soothingly whispers. "Bid me entry to your secret garden" He kisses both sides of her mouth and lowers her panties. "Unspeakable pleasures await you there …"

Panting in anticipation of his carnal promise, Isabella parts her legs. She gasps when his thumb brushes over her private area. He repeatedly skims his thumb over her swelling bud before increasing the intensity of his strokes. Forward and back … side to side, in a repetitive circular motion … faster … harder … again and again. Pleasure spikes deep within as her body climbs to a great height. Oblivious to all else except his touch, she is unaware of the primal sounds escaping from her throat. Involuntarily her back arches and rises off the bed. Where is he taking her? Teetering precariously on the edge and ready to spread her wings and take flight, she tenses when a finger slides inside her opening and reels her in. Taking a step back from the edge, she is left confused and wanting.

"I won't hurt you," his heated voice assures her when feeling her warm wetness coating his finger. "You are ready for me. I need you so very much but … ladies first."

Isabella is taken by surprise when suddenly Edward rises and without warning, pulls her down to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees. Placing her feet on top of his shoulders, he lowers his face forward and lays a trail of kisses along her inner thigh, first one and then the other. His trace facial scruff tickles her sensitive skin causing her to giggle. That is until he arrives at her private area. She reddens when his tongue begins to lick her swollen bud just as his fingers had. Flicking his tongue forward and back … side-to-side, in a circular motion … faster … harder … again and again. Soon she is hovering on the precipice once more and this time when he inserts two of his fingers inside her entrance and presses on her walls in synchrony with his mouth, it happens. The coil that had been tightening deep within her core suddenly snaps and unravels unleashing wave upon wave of the greatest pleasure she has ever known.

"Edward!" she cries out to him as her body quivers.

Her hands reach down and cradle his head between her palms effectively holding him in place. With her breathing shallow and heart racing, it is at least another minute before she releases him from her grasp. A peaceful tranquility enfolds her as she gazes into his emerald green eyes that are shining bright with triumph.

"What was that?" she murmurs.

"Did you enjoy it?" Climbing back on top of the bed, he is wearing an expression of smug satisfaction. "It's called an orgasm and as your husband, it is my duty to bestow them frequently to my beloved wife."

She flushes. "It was incredible, amazing actually … I had no idea … please Edward, can we do it again?" she begs.

His strong arms pull them both to the top of the bed and he wraps her in his arms. Reaching for her hand, he boldly enfolds her fingers around his prominent erection.

"I was hoping for that response. Only this time I will show you how we can pleasure each other," he whispers, his voice raw with desire. "Don't be afraid to touch me. It will soon be your favorite part of my body."

Lowering her gaze, she stares with trepidation at his member that unbelievably is still growing. He guides her hand up and down his shaft, running it up past his tip and back again. Tilting his head back in his pillow, he closes his eyes and groans as she continues.

"I'm not afraid anymore. Show me. Make love to me Edward," she says breathless. "Please …"

Rolling on top of her, he positions himself between her legs and lowers his mouth to her breasts, sucking on her nipples and building them into stiff peaks; first one and then the other. Isabella cries out as the current flows and warms her groin. His lips seek and kiss her with passionate abandon.

"I'm going to enter you now," he gives warning. "Don't stiffen … try to relax. You may experience a moment of discomfort but it will pass quickly."

Isabella closes her eyes as she braces herself for the pain.

"Look at me," he orders. "Let my pleasure be yours, my love."

Aligning his tip at her entrance, he savors her warmth and slickness as he slowly sinks inside her. Feeling resistance when reaching her virginity, he thrusts forward rather than prolonging her torment and stills upon hearing her gasp.

"It's over with," he whispers, his breathing harsh. "You will never experience that stitch again." He proceeds to kiss her softly while running his fingers lightly down her side to comfort her.

Taking a moment, Isabella acclimates herself to the foreignness lodged deep within her. The pain that she has feared for so long has passed and she is left with an inner peace and longing. Overwhelmed by the intensity of her love for this man, she shifts beneath him, encouraging him to resume.

"If you need me to stop, you must tell me," he commands and waits until she nods.

Ever so slowly he withdraws before his hips thrust forward … again and again. Isabella revels in the intimate way in which her body is joined with the man she loves. As he begins to pick up speed, she recognizes the exquisite tightness building inside of her yet again. Her hands grasp his back as she practices flexing her hips in rhythm to his. Their breathing labored, together, they are scaling the highest of mountains. Edward is gasping, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pounds on.

"Isabella!" he cries. "Please surrender … I … I cannot hold off much longer."

His urgent plea is her undoing and she bows and convulses beneath him, the coil within her inner core unleashed once more. Feeling her walls tighten and grip his manhood he joins her. Together they are soaring … free falling through the heavens in pure unadulterated ecstasy. When finally they come back to earth, Isabella is grinning from ear-to-ear. She had worried needlessly. This is as it should be. She is confident in the knowledge that her mother had been completely and utterly wrong.

Edward shifts and as he withdraws, Isabella winces already missing their intimate connection. He reaches for the duvet when feeling her shiver and wraps it around them. Both content and satiated, they cling to each other and are silent in their thoughts. Edward reflects on his great fortune in having found her … his perfect match.

"Do you have any regrets?" he asks, his voice is circumspect.

"Regrets? I'm afraid I don't understand." She frowns baffled by his peculiar question and holds him tighter.

"Choosing me … marrying me?" he asks with bated breath.

Isabella scrambles to sit upright to ascertain if he is being serious. Surely he must know how much he means to her. Her fingers brush his copper hair away from his brow and she leans down, hovering mere inches from his handsome face. She takes pause praying for just the right words to assuage whatever doubts he may have.

"You are everything to me Edward," she whispers. "I love you so and I always will … for the rest of my life and for whatever lies beyond. No amount of time with you will ever be enough. But to answer your question, if I had to choose between a lifetime of tomorrows without you or just one night in your arms, I would gladly choose the later with not a single regret."

Edward gasps. "Oh my darling… my Isabella. I love you … it will always be you and only you."

His arms reach up and pull her close to him, their hearts beating together as one before he makes sweet, sweet love to her again and again.

~ih~

October 1918

Coming to an abrupt halt upon reaching its stop at West 59th Street, the subway doors swing open and Lydia quickly exits. Maneuvering her way through the sea of daily commuters, she briskly walks the three blocks to her destination on Central Park South. A cold autumn wind is blowing the colorful leaves off of the trees and it causes her to shiver and lift the collar of her coat. Mouthing a silent prayer, she hopes that she isn't too late. She came just as fast as she could after receiving the phone call from her mother. After typing the last of the letters her employer had dictated to her, she tidied up her desk and left.

Immediately recognizing her, the doorman smiles and bids her entry. The elevator doors ping open just as she walks inside the marbled foyer and in less than three minutes she is standing outside the penthouse suite. Taking a deep breath, she rings the buzzer and exhales at the sound of footsteps shuffling and the doorknob turning.

Her mother pulls her into a tight embrace. "Oh thank heavens you are finally here Lydia!" her mother cries. "I'm afraid he has taken a turn for the worse and the doctor is on his way. Lizzy won't listen to reason."

After taking her daughter's coat, she leads the way down the hallway to the last door on the right. Before turning the handle, she spins around.

"Other than her father, you are the only one she will listen to. Please try to get through to her. The poor thing hasn't left his side for the past two days and nights. Unless she rests, she is going to relapse."

"I'll see what I can do mom," Lydia swallows.

Tapping her knuckles on the heavy wooden door, she waltzes inside. The room is dimly lit and the shades are drawn. A single lit lamp on the nightstand cast long shadows on the walls. The nurse gives Lydia a small nod and steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Beside the bed is her dearest friend, who has been more like a sister, with her head slung over her arm. She startles and wakens when Lydia gently touches her shoulder. Relief washes over Lizzy's face upon finding Lydia by her side.

"He looks better, doesn't he?" Lizzy expectantly asks, clinging to any shred of hope.

Lydia stares down at the man lying unconscious beneath a thin bed sheet. His thinning copper hair peppered with gray is drenched in sweat; his breathing is hard and labored. His color is ashen. It strikes her that he bears little resemblance to the strong and vibrant man she has always known and it saddens her deeply to see him in this poor condition. She finds it ironic that in all the ways that count, Mr. Masen has been more like a father to her than her own. James Smith is a name that is never, ever spoken in this home and for good reason. But Mr. Masen never held his grievous sin against herself or her mother and has always treated them kindly.

Unwilling to lie to her, Lydia avoids answering Lizzy's question. Instead she opts for a diversion.

"I doubt your father will be pleased to see you by his bedside. You know how he worries about your health. I'm here now. Why don't you get something to eat and then lie down for a bit and rest. I promise I'll call for you if need be."

Lizzy adamantly shakes her head and reaches for a cool washcloth. Gently and tenderly she pats the sweat from his brow. "No," she replies firmly. "I won't leave him."

Edward stirs and his eyelids flutter open, his sight unfocused. "My love …" His voice is very weak and barely audible. "You came … I knew you would." He is staring past Lizzy at nothing in particular.

Tears well up in Lizzy's eyes. "Oh daddy! Yes, I'm here. I love you …" She grabs hold of his hand.

Sensing something is seriously wrong Lydia runs to the door and calls for the nurse to come back inside.

"Isabella … so beautiful," he whispers reverently.

"No daddy, it's me, Lizzy." She brings his hand up to her cheek.

"I've missed you … so very much," he breathes and there is a small smile planted on his still handsome face.

"Don't you recognize me?" Lizzy cries as panic sets in. "Please don't leave me!"

"Lizzy, my sweet girl," he mouths and gazes up at his daughter, his emerald green eyes boring into her chocolate brown ones. "Can you see her?"

"Who Daddy?" she whimpers. "It's just me and Lydia."

"Your mother … she's here." A blissful expression settles over his face. "… come … for me … my Isabella."

The nurse rushes inside with the doctor close behind, past the girls who are now standing at the foot of his bed, softly weeping and clinging to each other.

Edward's eyes widen and he extends his right arm in the air … his hand reaching … stretching and as he draws his last breath, he closes his fingers.

"_I've been waiting for you," Isabella says smiling radiantly and taking hold of his hand. "Come with me," she beckons._

"_Isabella, my love," Edward whispers._

_Knowing that he will follow her to the ends of the earth and back again, without hesitation he places his hand in hers._

"_We will always be together. Nothing will ever separate us again."_

_~ih~_

To this very day, Edward and Isabella are blissfully happy and still very much in love. And if by chance you happen to visit Hope Castle on Masen Island, perhaps like Alice, you may catch sight of them strolling the grounds together arm in arm, … for all of eternity.

The End

* * *

**A/N: And so our story has come full circle. I hope that you've enjoyed it. If you have, I would appreciate it if you would let me know.**

**What is next on my plate, you may ask? **

**Well I am currently writing the sequel to ****Before the Bloodlust Begins**** (id: 7504908) and hope to begin posting soon. For those who have not read BtBB yet or for those who have and would like to refresh the story in their minds, now is the perfect time to do so. I am posting the prelude to the sequel now. I hope you join me on what I promise will be an exciting journey. **

**Here is a brief summary for ****Before the Bough Breaks: **

**Trouble is brewing for the Cullen clan with the war raging overseas as well as a personal battle on the home front. With threats coming at them from both sides and quickly closing in will they remain strong or crumble as the bough breaks. Vampire/Human. id: 9010973**


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